Perhaps
by Dr.President
Summary: When the stresses of being a reluctant superpower become too great, Alfred's former self, who championed imperialism as the answer, rises to the surface.
1. The Quest for Empire

**Author's Note: My very first story on fanfiction! Just got hit by a spur of the moment thing, but decided to go ahead and write it anyway. I hope you all enjoy!**

**The main prompt comes from an older computer game Rome: Total War. The introduction to the Greek faction was one of my favorites, and I thought to myself, what would it be like if it were America's thoughts instead?**

**So, with that said, on with the show!**

Every day it was a struggle for Alfred.

Not a single World Meeting went by that his former self did not pester him. Through great effort and years of experience, he'd succeeded in resisting the cries for return, but there were times when his defenses would slip, and bits of his old nature began to resurface.

His former self, whose existence came into being back in 1846, had colored his personality throughout the next century and a half. His wars with Mexico, and later on Spain, had transformed the freedom loving nation into something he despised. His very existence was predicated on the fact that he had broken away from an empire. Alfred couldn't, in good conscience, allow himself to become the very thing he had wanted to get away from.

So, he gave up his imperial tendencies. For a time, the voice of his former self was quieted, muffled by the deep-rooted feelings of liberty coursing through his veins. His isolationist policies, something he'd tried unsuccessfully to maintain during the First World War, were a testament to this.

Then came the Second World War. Drawn once against into a conflict he'd neither started nor wanted, America was forced to fight to defend his freedoms, as well as those of the nations conquered by the Axis. His other self was silent for most of the fighting. Japan's imperialism had shocked and appalled Alfred to such an extent, he dared not even think of forging an empire, lest he end up like the Japanese.

The truly difficult challenge came when the war was finally over. America had listened in to the radio broadcast from the _USS Missouri. _Japan, the last surviving member of the Axis, had finally agreed to an unconditional surrender. A feeling of relief and joy had descended upon his people. Ticker tape celebrations occurred in all his major cities, as well as around the world.

Alfred himself was overjoyed at the news. His only regret was that President Roosevelt, who'd given so much of himself for the country, couldn't have been there to witness the moment. Truman, great man though he was, hadn't been there in those crucial early moments of the war when Alfred cringed with each downed plane and every destroyed ship. FDR would've loved to have seen this victory; he had wished for it for years.

Nevertheless, there was little time to grieve a dead leader. Alfred had to press on with Truman, to help give the world a sense of normalcy in the aftermath of its deadliest struggle. His boss had gone ahead of him several weeks prior to Potsdam, linking up with Atlee and Stalin to discuss the fate of the post-war world. To conclude the conference, each nation's representative was expected to be in attendance. Britain and Russia were already there, but, as Truman had said, the meeting couldn't start without Alfred's presence.

He knew why, of course. Ever since Hiroshima, the nations of the world started looking at him in a different light. He was no longer the young, inexperienced nation who came up with ridiculous ideas, he was one of….no, he was _the _leading power in the world. The other nations now looked upon him with deep respect, and even, to his dismay, slight fear. Alfred possessed the atom bomb; he could turn them all into dust if he so wished with this newfound power.

The responsibility that came with this power weighed heavily on America, as did his former self's calls. Not a day went by from that point on when he did not feel the call to return to his imperialist ways. The Soviet Union had been doing so for much of the 20th century, so why not him?

Even now, with the Cold War twenty years behind him, Alfred could still feel his former self seeking to be unleashed upon the world. The nations of the world think that they can hold off, or even defeat him, but they had never tasted his true wrath. He could crush many of them if he so desired. Why then, didn't he?

"_America could rule the world…," _he would whisper on occasions, jolting Alfred with how real and alive he still managed to sound. _"FDR thought so."_

America tried his best to repress his memories of Polk and their war against Mexico. What began as a defensive action, ended with him annexing nearly half of Mexico's own territory. And yet…..he could never truly forget the pride he felt in both his president, and in himself, when he heard the results of the war.

"_He took American armies through Europe and Asia. There was nothing left to conquer! The world was his!"_

Alfred's memories of Germany and Japan's unconditional surrender filtered into his mind. It was true, at that time, he did hold the fate of the two nations in the palm of his hands. Even though he gave it back, for the time it had been his, the power felt…..satisfying.

"_But FDR is dead, his empire is gone. And so, we live in evil days! The free nations of the world have turned on each other, instead of the proper enemies: those who envy all America has done!"_

Alfred paused at those words. It was true; he had done a great deal of good for the world. He'd bailed Europe out with the Marshal Plan; he rebuilt Japan after World War II and had successfully protected much of the democratic nations of the world from Communism in the 20th century. Where was the appreciation for his efforts? Where had the praise gone?

"_FDR must weep, if the dead weep. I would weep in his place, but I would also hope!"_

Colonies had never dared question the good their home nation did for them. He was a colony once, that was true, but he rose up only against the bad which Britain had done, not against the good.

"_The world turns; what was may come again. Fate still spins the webs of men's lives. So now, perhaps God wishes us to be great again. Perhaps a new FDR will rise to the task! Bring order where there is chaos! Remake the world men into a better plane!"_

His imperial self at last fell silent, his piece given. Alfred, relieved his old ways had finally quieted, walked out the door of his D.C. apartment. There was a World Meeting scheduled for today, in his capital nonetheless. It would show poorly on the superpower if he were late. The world wasn't going to manage itself.

Before closing the door, however, Alfred gave a subconscious reply to his former self.

"Perhaps…."


	2. Provoking the Giant

**Author's Note: I have to admit, I never saw this coming. Even now, as I'm writing this, I'm thinking, "What on Earth are you doing? You're already working on another story, not to mention all the schoolwork you have to do!" Despite that, thanks to the inspiring words of a few fellow authors, as well as the number of favorites I've received (which is far larger than I could've thought), I'm going to take a shot at continuing this story. **

**Now, with that announcement comes a few more announcements. One, I have a vague idea for a plotline, but if anybody has suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Secondly, I'm thinking of having a pairing for this, that pairing will be AmericaxVietnam. Personally, I just love the two of them and, due to the lack of fanfics on them, feel it is my duty to write one! So, that's all I have to say for now. Until next time! Enjoy!**

Today was a good day.

The earliest stages of autumn had just begun to creep into the atmosphere. The mornings were brisk, leveling off into mild temperatures by the afternoon. The leaves were still green, but Alfred knew that, in a few weeks' time, his capital would be awash in golden trees. Rarely did his citizens share such an appreciation for the latter season, however. To many, it represented a return to school and the end of a balmy summer. It was an understandable feeling of course, shared by the great multitude of people around the world. Alfred, however, took a much more philosophic approach to the changing of the seasons.

To him, fall represented a period of winding down. After the warmth and liveliness of spring and summer, a time of rest was not only necessary, but obligatory. The other nations never asked for his opinion on the subject, of course. How could Alfred, that, "ignorant, selfish superpower" have any capacity for higher level thinking?

It vexed him how the other nations, who, at least in theory, were wiser and more mature, could not even guess at the complexities going on within his mind. It was mainly for that reason alone that, whenever asked his opinion, he gave a rehearsed, half-hearted answer, feigning the stupidity they believed came natural to him.

There were some of course who did know the truth. The number was woefully small, but enough to give Alfred hope that perhaps not all nations were so one-dimensional. The list, however, was rather unlikely. Arthur didn't know the truth, save for a few rare glimpses he'd seen during the tumultuous history he shared with Alfred.

The nations who knew the real Alfred, as he'd taken to calling his intellect, consisted of Germany, Japan, Russia, and, to a certain degree, China. Each nation had witnessed Alfred's fury being directed solely against them at one time or another. Japan, being the only one to taste his _true _wrath, had become his closest friend as a result.

He found it strange how near apocalyptic war could form such powerful bonds. Perhaps there truly was something to this imperialism his old self had championed so strongly…

The World Meeting began as always. Arthur and Francis would bicker about one centuries' old argument or another, China, flanked by his siblings, would open up a discussion on economics in the Asian markets, and Germany, taking the unofficial role of chairmen, would finally call the meeting to order.

Alfred quickly found his seat at the massive round table, finding, to his delight, that he was seated next to Japan and Russia. Ever since the 90's, he and the 'commie bastard', as he still playfully referred to him, had patched things up. Their friendship/rivalry was not the most overt in the world, but that was by design. It would take at least another decade before his people, and indeed, some of his own politicians, could accept the idea of Russia being an ally.

Germany opened the meeting with a brief review over the most pressing issues concerning the world at the time. Alfred immediately knew several of the topics beforehand. It had been the same for quite a few months now: the economy, peacekeeping missions, U.N. resolutions, carbon reduction, and energy consumption, to name a few.

Others, however, had more profound effect on him, the biggest issue being the turmoil going on in the Middle East. He had felt the storming of his embassy in Libya; the North African nation had apologized up and down for the attack, realizing that, if Alfred so chose, could lawfully declare war. He had forgiven Libya, of course, he was still going through a rough transition into democracy and the number of terror groups in his country and grown to rather staggering proportions.

Despite his forgiveness, the acts riled up a great anger inside America. Back when Jefferson was president, all it took to start a war in North Africa was the capture of a few of his sailors. One of his ambassadors was just _killed_. He would question his own compassion if he were to just brush such a thing aside. The embassy attack, however gut-wrenching it was to learn about, was not the whole issue. He had been having problems in that region for years now.

Iran was becoming more and more hostile it seemed, continually threatening, not just America, but his good friend Israel. The strife between the Persian nation and himself was far more storied than that, however. He knew deep down that it was initially his fault; his government had supported the overthrow of its government back in the 50's, something which he had not been made aware of until after the fact. Nevertheless, it did not excuse Iran's actions in the 21st century.

Did he not realize who he was threatening?

Alfred had stared down the barrel of over 40,000 Russian nukes during the Cold War and he didn't budge an inch. Iran had, what? Uranium, at best?

The media and his country and blown the whole situation way out of proportion, but worse still was that Iran was starting to believe it. He actually thought he was intimidating Alfred, and was going to get away with his saber-rattling.

"_Iran would make a good colony…,"_ his old self whispered softly.

The thought didn't set well with Alfred, and he immediately banished it away, grimacing at the thought of imperialism.

"Something troubles you, comrade?" Ivan whispered, noting the sour look on his former enemy's face.

America snapped out his thoughts at that, unaware he had not been paying attention for quite some time.

"Nah, it's just….," he trailed off for a bit, scratching his head in thought. "Some things from the past have been coming up."

Russia nodded slowly, accepting the vague answer. His past was certainly dark enough to evoke such powerful feelings. America, despite being far younger, had seen more than his fair share of dark moments as well.

The meeting droned on for about another half hour. As usual, only minor issues had been dealt with. Tackling anything bigger than the length of the flagpoles outside the U.N. headquarters took weeks of arguments, endless speeches, and more than a few threats of military action.

It had finally ended at around 5:00 that afternoon. Alfred was looking forward to returning home, fighting his way through his own paperwork, and relaxing for the evening with a copy of Caesar's _Commentaries_. Fate, as it seemed, had other plans.

As he gathered together his things and proceeded to head for the exit, he noticed a rather heated discussion going on between two of the remaining nations in the room. Normally, this would be no cause for alarm, but once he recognized who they were, he immediately headed over.

Whenever Israel and Iran spoke to one another, it was _never _pleasant.

"Ardeshir, I'm not trying to start anything with you," Israel said calmly, trying to refrain from pulling out his Glock pistol. "Just let me pass by, and we can both leave here."

The smaller nation attempted to side-step Iran, only to be blocked once again.

"Not this time, infidel," Ardeshir retorted, glaring daggers. "No one's around to protect you this time, so I'm going to speak my mind! Have you heard about the advances my enrichment program's undergone? It won't be much longer now…it won't be long at all."

"What's going on here?" Alfred demanded, immediately coming to Israel's aid.

Iran's anger instantly turned on the western nation.

"This doesn't concern you! Be on your way you imperialist dog!"

There was that word again….

Imperial.

Iran didn't realize it, but the more he said it, the more the title seemed, not only fitting, but….satisfying.

Alfred stood stock still for a moment, his eyes staring directly at the Persian nation. Ardeshir, unaware that he was provoking the giant, continued his verbal tirade.

"I said leave!" he shouted. "Middle Eastern affairs do not concern you at all! You can't control us!"

Oh, but he could.

It would be so easy…. a nice, "splendid little war," and the whole of the region would be his to command.

"Alfred, it's okay, really," Israel said, trying to get a reaction out of his ally. "I can handle this."

Iran, his patience having worn thin, was through with words. Without even realizing the consequences of his actions, he clenched his fist, taking a swing at the western nation.

He never made contact….

In the blink of an eye, the immobile Alfred had intercepted the blow, catching Ardeshir's fist in his hand.

"That's not gonna cut it," he said emotionlessly, his eyes glazed over.

Releasing a fraction of his power, he lightly squeezed Iran's fist, breaking several bones in a matter of seconds. Instantly, the pain shot through his body, his hand feeling as if it were on fire. Ardeshir tugged with all his might to free his hand, but Alfred's grip was like a vice.

He didn't even appear to be trying.

"Let go of me!" Iran shouted, trying to mask the pain in his voice. "I said let go!"

"No," America stated flatly, releasing another fraction of his strength.

Several more bones were instantly crushed. Iran, unable to handle the agony, shouted in pain, dropping to his knees. Try as he might, Alfred's grip showed no signs of so much as loosening.

"I'm fed up with your actions, Iran. This has gone on far too long for my liking. You've made three mistakes here today, so let's review. First, you threatened a close friend of mine. Second, you refused my attempts to arrive at a peaceful conclusion. Thirdly, and most importantly, you keep acting like I'm beneath you. I am your superior in every way imaginable. I could turn your country into a parking lot in a matter of hours if I so chose! Are you not aware of the power I possess?! I could turn you into ash if I so desired! In a week's time the whole world will be trying to remember who you were! I will **not **be intimidated by the likes of you!"

Israel was shocked, and a little scared, at the amount of power America was projecting right now. Had he really been holding back _this _much for so long?

"Let…..let me go Alfred..," Iran asked weakly, using his real name for the first time in over thirty years.

"'Let me go Alfred' _what?_"

"L-let me….let me go…please."

With that, Alfred released his grip, allowing Iran to drop to the ground completely.

"Consider this your first, last, and only warning. Leave my friend alone."

Turning swiftly on his heels, he walked away, leaving Israel dumfounded at the complexity of his greatest ally.

Russia, having witnessed the conflict from a safe distance away, immediately recognized that look in Alfred's eye. He himself had it once before. When a powerful nation like Alfred realizes the true power they possess….bad things could happen.

Catching up with the retreating American, they exited the meeting hall together, neither saying a word about what had just happened.

"This is a dangerous road you travel, comrade," Ivan pointed out honestly. "I won't try and stop you, but you must know that darkness will await you. It happened to me too; you remember the Soviet Union, da? My actions took many lives, nearly including my own. Do you think you'll be able to overcome the darkness which will surely come?"

Alfred smirked at Russia's question, unsure himself of an answer. But, knowing better than to remain silent, gave an answer which seemed to work quite well for him as of late.

"Perhaps…"

**Author's Note: So, there it is! I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter to "Perhaps"! Now, before I go any further, allow me to say a few things. One, as I'll be dealing with a darker America, force and power are going to play a key role, and there's a possibility that an 'empire' may emerge. As this is fiction, I just want everyone to know that if your nation is on the "chopping block", so to speak, it has nothing to do with my own personal opinions.**

**Now! That said, I have only a few ideas as to what I should do with this story, as I stated above. Any suggestions, compliments, criticisms, etc. would all be greatly appreciated.**

**Once again, I thank you for reading, and I hope it has been an enjoyable experience for you as it was for me! See you next time!**


	3. Miss Saigon

**Author's Note: Wow…the more of these reviews and favorites I get, the more compelled I am to keep writing! You guys are awesome; thanks for giving me the drive to continue! **

**So, before we begin, quick announcement. This chapter will mark the start of the sub-plot as well as the AmericaxVietnam romance I have planned. This plot and the main plot will tie in and influence one another heavily, so this isn't too much of a deviation. Also, I'm thinking of creating a human name for Vietnam. Now, I have a few ideas, but if you the readers have one that you think is best, or if there's been some kind of general consensus for fanfics, by all means, let me know.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

It had been a few days since Alfred's confrontation, if one could call it that, with Iran. By the time he'd arrived home that night, all the news channels were focused on the Persian nation. For reasons unknown, they had agreed to an indefinite halt of their uranium enrichment program and were opening themselves up to a U.N. investigation. The world was shocked at the development, none more so than the American people. Alfred had received a phone call from his president, who seemed ecstatic at the news, but had no idea why it had happened.

Over the next couple days, the world felt like a better place. People were less worried about nuclear proliferation or the turmoil in the Middle East. Israel was now safe…well, saf_er_. It would take much more effort to completely protect his ally. Alfred, acting solely on his own desire for respect, had pacified one of the most hostile countries that dared challenge him.

It felt…..satisfying.

All those years of sanctions and veiled threats had amounted to nothing. Five minutes of pure honesty and power flaunting had solved all issues he had with Ardeshir. Iran now respected, and even feared his power. Why had he never thought of this before?

He was the only remaining superpower. He didn't have to try and 'play nice' with countries that dared challenge him. Alfred was in total control. He would play by his own set of rules and would win every time. The very idea felt liberating; at last the world would be molded into his image.

But of course, it could not all happen immediately. What was the old adage? "Rome wasn't built in a day?" That applied to Alfred at this time. He couldn't just go tramping across the world and knocking down dictators and nations that dared challenge him…well, he could, but that was beside the point. Before any new actions could be taken, he had to consolidate that which he already possessed. The United States of America, himself.

It was a mighty, prosperous nation, with more wealth than most nations could comprehend. Nevertheless, it was not without its faults, he recognized this. His newly elected president, a political strongman advocating social reform and a revamp of foreign policy, was already hard at work trying to get to the root of the problem.

It was no surprise, then, that Alfred found himself buried up to his eyeballs in paperwork inside the Oval Office. The president, after meeting with his nation's representative, insisted in sharing the workload with Alfred, in the hopes that, between the two of them, more would actually get done.

The plan, simple though it was, worked perfectly. Rarely did a country and his boss have such a stellar record of teamwork. Japan and Russia had, on more than one occasion, admitted their jealousy at the partnership.

Sure, it meant more work on Alfred's part, but it was the benefit of his people, which, in turn, led to his own benefit. It was a win-win for everybody.

Alfred was halted in the middle of his work when the phone on the president's desk rang. The act had become quite rare, what with the level of bureaucracy that existed. Whatever the call was about, it must've been something important.

The president answered it after the first ring, pressing the speaker button so Alfred could listen in.

"You've reached the Oval Office, the President speaking!" his boss joked as he signed off on more papers.

"Mr. President, the delegation from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam is here for your 5:00 meeting," the White House secretary answered promptly.

Alfred immediately let his writing hand go limp upon hearing that. There was a Vietnamese delegation here?

"Excellent," his boss replied, noticing the look of shock on America's face. "Go ahead and send them into the Roosevelt Room. Al and I'll be there in a few."

"Is their representative a part of the delegation as well?" Alfred called out.

"Yes sir, Vietnam's representative is present."

His heart nearly stopped when he heard that.

Even thought it'd been close to forty years since the end of the war, he still felt as if he could've done more…

"Bet you're surprised to hear that, huh?" his boss asked, chuckling at the dazed look an Alfred's face. "It's been a while since you last saw her, isn't it?"

America nodded sadly at that. Vietnam was her own country now; he could see her whenever he wanted. But the shame and guilt he felt toward himself by leaving her prevented him from doing so. He hadn't even gone to the meeting in '95 when they finally normalized relations again…

"Come on don't get so down about it, Al!" The president encouraged. "The fact that she's here proves that she doesn't blame you for what happened. Why don't you go and talk to her?"

He looked up at the president for a moment, and then slowly began to nod.

"Perhaps you're right," he conceded. "It's time I be honest with her."

"Atta boy! Tell you what, why don't I handle the delegation, and you two go see the sights?"

"You wouldn't mind that?"

"Do I mind? Course not! It's just economic and trade relations, no biggie."

With that, the president hustled Alfred toward the Roosevelt Room, a team of advisors in tow. America's economic relations in Southeast Asia were constantly expanding. The level of trade he had with China was too over balanced for Alfred's taste, so he found a way to disperse it. Vietnam was a great economic partner, he openly admitted this.

Yet despite the mutual benefit they shared, he found it a dissatisfying conclusion. She was once the jewel of Southeast Asia. When she and Alfred had been together, her country produced a surplus of goods and was quickly on its way to becoming an economic powerhouse. After he'd been forced to leave, her people were in famine…

Things had certainly improved since the seventies. She was producing again and her economy was making significant gains. But it all felt so wrong to him. She was once his queen, now she was made to make shoes and furniture for his people.

His boss opened the door to the Roosevelt Room, allowing his nation first entrance. Alfred nodded in thanks, walking in to find the Vietnamese delegation was already present. He barely recognized most of them, but there, seated at the end of the table, was the love of his life he'd not spoken to since that black day in April so many years ago.

_Flashback_- _April 30, 1975_

Artillery shells were falling everywhere.

Explosions echoed throughout the war ravaged city. Desperate locals were crowding the streets, desperate to find a way out of the country. NVA troops were moving into position. Every hour, every minute, every second, they drew closer to the capital, intent on achieving total capitulation.

Saigon was falling.

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Alfred had been there; he had stayed since the beginning. Most of his military personnel had left some years back, but he refused to go. Vietnam needed his help, and was going to stay and help to the end. Well, now the end had come.

He knew what would happen if any of his people were captured by the North Vietnamese, and he refused to let any of them be taken prisoner. So, he ordered an evacuation of his diplomats and all other Americans in the country. He hated how helpless it made him feel. If he only had more time…he would've made the North pay. He would've kept Viet safe from harm.

But he couldn't. All he could do at that point was run.

He and Vietnam were the only two people inside the now empty American embassy. NVA troops were literally entering the city and would be there in less than an hour. His ambassador was safely evacuated and many Vietnamese locals who'd assisted his people were also taken to safety as well. There were more who wanted to escape, but Alfred did not physically have the ability to get them out. His helicopters had ferried as many people as they could, they'd even go so far as to push them into the ocean after their flights to make room for more refugees.

There was only one helicopter left.

It was meant for America, but had room for one more person.

Alfred, his uniform covered in blood and dirt, was ready to evacuate, but refused until he had filled that last space. He had to get her out.

"Please, Viet! I'm begging you! Come with me!" Alfred beseeched the Asian nation, dropping to his knees. "It doesn't have to be the end!"

He looked up at her pale face, seeing tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I can't Alfred…I can't," she said, barely above a whisper. "I can't abandon my people like this."

"You won't have to, Viet! We-we can make a new country for your people! Like what Taiwan did! You can live there with your people, we'll rebuild together! We can be together!"

He could see the turmoil going on within her. He desperately wanted her to accept his offer; they could ride off together, escaping the commies, and they could be together forever, like it should have been. But…deep down, he knew that, if it were his country, he wouldn't abandon them either.

"Vietnam needs a representative," she told him, trying her best to sound confident. "It….it won't be easy, but I can manage. I've lived with less before, I can do it again."

Alfred slowly got up from the ground, realizing there was no changing her mind. They instantly locked eyes with one another. They were two nations who had fought desperately for freedom. One would go back to the richness of his liberty, while the other…

He tightly wrapped his arms around him, letting out silent sobs as he did so. He knew that this could be the last time he ever saw her again.

"I love you, Viet," he said with complete conviction. "I'll find a way for us to be together again; I promise. I'm not going to let my Miss Saigon down."

She smiled slightly at his nickname for her. He had given it to her when they'd first met ten years ago. She never thought it would evoke the powerful emotions she felt now.

"I love you too, G.I. number one," she whispered back, using her own nickname for him.

It felt like hours before the two separated, but in actuality, it was only a few minutes. NVA tanks were rolling down the streets. They would be entering the district very soon.

So, with nothing else left to be said, the two bid farewell and parted ways, Alfred to his awaiting helicopter, to return to his own country, and Vietnam to Saigon's presidential palace to formally announce the surrender of her government's forces.

_End Flashback_

It had been years since those parting words. Both of them had changed in ways the other couldn't even imagine. Alfred, however, was certain of one thing. He still loved her, and he had not given up on the promise he'd made to her all those years ago.

"Ambassador Nguyen Quoc Cuong, it's an honor," his boss introduced, shaking the Vietnamese delegate leader's hand. "It's my hope that this meeting will lead to stronger economic ties between our two nations."

Alfred was only semi-aware of the meeting that was starting in his presence. All his attention was focused on his Miss Saigon. He had spared her passing glances at previous World Meetings, but now, she was right in front of him. Now, the old Alfred, plagued by guilt and regret, would probably have been satisfied with just admiring her from afar. But this was the _new _Alfred; nothing he wanted was outside his grasp. With a combination of swagger and confidence, he strode directly toward her.

"It's been a long time, Viet," he remarked smoothly. "How have you been?"

Vietnam looked up in surprise, a faint blush on her cheeks. America hadn't spoken directly with her in so long…

"A-Alfred," she stammered out. "It…It has been a long time."

He smirked at her surprise, the love in her eyes still evident after the thirty-plus year separation.

"Listen, my boss is here, and you've got a whole team of delegates. Why don't we get out of here? I can give you the grand tour of D.C."

She seemed flustered at his response. He hadn't spoken to her in years, and now he was here asking her out?

"Oh, well, I-I don't really know if-"

"Come on, Viet. It'll be fun," America assured.

Without waiting for a response, he placed her hand in his, and led her out of the room. His boss shot him a look of congratulations, watching as the two nations walked out the door. He had been worried about Alfred for the past couple days. Ever since his brash actions against Iran, his nation's representative seemed to changing. He was growing quieter, colder, and more calculative. It wasn't altogether a bad thing, but it made him wonder what America was thinking, and, more importantly, why he wasn't sharing it with anyone.

What was Alfred planning?

**Author's Note: Another chapter down! This is getting kind of easy!**

**So, just a few quick points. One, just to set the record straight for anyone who wasn't sure, this story is set in the present/near future. I've been mulling around with the idea of creating a name for America's president. Not sure if there's any rules of etiquette which bars me from using actual political leaders, but since this takes place so close to an election year, I'd rather not antiquate the story by using actual names. As for other countries, however, I don't really see any reason not to use real names. Case in point being Vietnam's ambassador in this chapter, he's their actual ambassador to the U.S. **

**Again though, if this, for any reason, offends or doesn't sit well with a few of you, I can revamp it and create my own political leaders for the different countries.**

**Also, in case you haven't figured it out by now, yes, the Vietnam War is a slice of history which I'm really passionate about, for reasons unknown even to me. It likely won't be revisited except for snippets here and there, though, which gives me time to focus on other points of history! Oh, and before I forget, I'll be mentioning dates and events quite often in this fanfiction. If you guys would like, I can include a legend for those events down here in the Author's Note so you can all follow along.**

**Well, that's about it for now. Expect the next chapter in about a week. See you all then!**


	4. The Final Straw

**Author's Note: Again, another awesome round of favorites and reviews! I thank you all for your assistance in making this story possible.**

**As we start chapter 4 here, we'll get deeper into the makings of the empire, and push towards Alfred's ultimate goal. What is that goal? Some of you may have guessed, but for those of you just tuning in, I'll be keeping it a secret for now!**

**So, once again, sit back, relax, and enjoy the story!**

Vietnam hadn't been gifted with a full tour of Washington D.C. since the sixties. She had just recently won her independence from France; life was finally taking a turn for the better. She had plans to start a lawful democracy and was planning to learn from the best. Alfred had shown her the best the capitalist world had to offer. She was so looking forward to making a country just like his. But, unfortunately, fate had a different plan…

America had done everything possible to prop up her country against the communists. He'd sent half a million troops, spent billions of dollars, and used just about every weapon at his disposal, save nuclear weaponry, to defend her. Yet, despite all his efforts, it was not enough.

She couldn't blame him for that though; it was her own nation's fault. South Vietnam had neither the will nor the ability to win the war with America's help, let alone by themselves. Her politicians were corrupt; her soldiers without resolve, and, quite frankly, Vietnam herself did not believe she could've effectively managed her own capitalist country.

For a time, during the split between North and South, there had been two representatives. The Vietnam Alfred knew, and indeed, the Vietnam the world had known before then, was still her, the North having been a part of the whole country. When the war finally ended, her northern half had fused back with her. In the greatest instance of irony, Vietnam, despite having lost the war completely, was granted sole representation of both halves of her now united country.

"Remember the last time we were here together?" Alfred asked his companion as he led her up the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial.

She nodded, the old memories all coming back into remembrance.

"Yes…Reverend King spoke here, didn't he?"

"That's right. I still can't believe we were standing so close to the man when he gave that speech."

Back in '63, before Alfred had really joined in the war, he had invited Viet to D.C. Before then, nobody could've even found her country on the map, let alone think that she would be the sight of America's longest war of the 20th century. Alfred, having been caught up in the wave of civil rights, had participated in the March on Washington. Vietnam, knowing nobody else in the entire country, came along as well.

It was inspiring to say the least; one of those moments when Alfred, as a nation, truly felt the powerful of the people coursing through his veins.

"Those really were the days, huh?" he murmured. "Back before everything….you know…hit the fan."

"It wasn't your fault, Alfred," she pointedly reminded him. "You did everything you could."

His head suddenly separated from hers as he walked down the stairs in frustration.

"Oh yeah? Then why does it feel like I could've done more?!"

Vietnam was shocked by Alfred's sudden change in mood. He was usually such a happy and carefree person, even during the war he had always tried to cheer her up. Where was all this emotion coming from?

"I-I never used all of my power to defend you; I could've done so much more!" he continued to rant, descending the last few steps of the monument.

The girl he loved had survived the war, but things had changed greatly since then. His own nickname for her, Miss Saigon, was now antiquated, her old capital having been renamed Ho Chi Minh City. In his country, her name had become synonymous with endless, pointless war. His citizens, once proud supporters of their country, were cynical and staunchly anti-war. Alfred himself was no great fan of war, but it seemed that anytime he got involved in a confrontation that wasn't over in five minutes, his citizens were quick to cry 'Vietnam'.

"You dropped more bombs on the North than you did in all of World War 2," Vietnam reminded him, hurrying to keep up with his fast stride. "What more could've been done?"

"Oh Vietnam….you have no idea what kind of power I had at my disposal. I had nuclear weaponry, nerve gas, infrared technology and millions of soldiers. I should've nuked Hanoi! I should've used the nerve gas! I should've stayed longer! I-I should've….should've…."

"Should have what?"

Alfred instantly halted, stopping right in the middle of the street they were crossing. Pedestrians moved right passed them, having no idea they were in the presence of two nations.

Alfred turned to look at Vietnam directly. His eyes betrayed the deep emotional burden he still carried ever since he abandoned her back in '75. Back then, he had used every conventional weapon at his disposal to keep her safe, but it had not been enough. Vietnam just couldn't stand on her own at that time as a capitalist nation.

But…..there had been one other option.

"I should've annexed you, Viet."

The world seemed to pause for a moment.

What had he just said? _'Annexed'?_ France had said that to her once, and it didn't turn out well.

But…

Maybe it would be different with Alfred. She loved him; that was something she could never have said about Francis. And, if his guilt were any indication, he still had feelings for her as well. That didn't really sound like an annexation…it sounded like…something more.

"Wh-why do you feel that way?" she asked tentatively.

The pedestrian light had turned red; they were the only ways still standing in the crosswalk. Yet Alfred showed no signs of moving.

"Think about it, Viet. If you had been my colony, I could've kept you safe! The North wouldn't have attacked you; Ivan wouldn't risk all-out war by allowing them to do that! It'd be difficult at first, but your people wouldn't have had to worry about communists on their doorstep. And best of all, you would be with me, forever! Isn't that what we always wanted, Viet?"

"W-well, I-I guess so, but…"

"Ah, hell, I'm through beating around the bush! I'm just going to come out and say it!"

Vietnam felt her heartbeat quicken as Alfred took her hands in his and dropped down to one knee.

"Vietnam, I've loved you for the longest time. Having to leave you back in the seventies was the hardest decision of my life, and I'll always regret it. But no more! I'm not going to leave you ever again! Viet, will you marry me?"

Alfred's confession, romantic though it was, was ruined by the blaring of car horns on the street they were currently blocking. People on the sidewalk had stopped to listen in, and all seemed to be waiting for her response. America, however, was completely oblivious to all of this, his attention focused solely on the southeastern nation in front of him.

It was all very flustering for Vietnam. Everybody was staring at them, more than a few were applauding Alfred's impromptu proposal.

"So, what do you say Viet?" he asked her, a bright smile on his face.

"Alfred, I can't just make such a huge decision like that on the spur of the moment!" she argued. "Do you even know what you're asking?"

"Sure I do! I'm asking to be with the girl of my dreams for the rest of our lives! What's wrong with that?"

"We're countries, Alfred," she whispered to him. "Anything existing between us that's more than friendship will have serious effects on the geo-political world!"

"I'm the superpower!" he argued. "I _am _the geopolitical world! Viet, don't you see? There's nothing anybody can say or do that'll dissuade me from wanting to marry you."

By now, there was a line of traffic being held up by the two.

"Alfred, can we at least move this conversation from out the middle of the road?" she asked, sensing the anger of the drivers.

Only now did he finally take a look at his surroundings, realizing the immense pile-up he was causing.

"Wow…how did I not notice any of that?"

The two arrived back at the White House an hour later. The meeting between their governments had likely ended by now; trade relations weren't exactly the most complex diplomatic missions. Vietnam had remained silent for most of the way, her mind occupied by Alfred's sudden proposal.

Had they been mere humans, her answer would've been swift and easy. She loved him; even before he put his own troops in harm's way to protect her, she had always admired his strength and character. Were the decision completely left up to her, she would've accepted in an instant.

But she wasn't human, and neither was he.

They were both nations, susceptible to the will and desires of their respective governments. She felt certain Alfred's boss would have agreed to the marriage, America had nothing to lose by doing so. Her own government, the descendent of Ho Chi Minh's communist vision, would take a drastically different stance.

There was a reason nations seldom ever married. The government of the subordinate nation, which she would most certainly be, was to be dissolved upon completion of the marriage. Her people, her country, and all its assets would be under the complete control of the United States of America. She knew and trusted Alfred, but even then, that was a frightening notion. Vietnam would not even be its own nation, technically, but a territory in, what would then be, an American empire.

Her government would never allow such a thing to ever happen.

She wouldn't tell Alfred that, of course, it would break his heart. Everyone had heard what he'd done to Iran earlier that week. If he was emotionally unstable, a flat out rejection might push him over the edge completely. There was only one thing she could do…

"So Viet, I know I kinda sprung this on you out of the blue and all," Alfred said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "So, how about this: I give you some time to break it with your government, I'll go chat with my boss, and then you can give me your answer! Sound good?"

'_Oh Alfred…,' _Vietnam thought pityingly. _'You're smarter than this. You know it can't work. Why fool yourself?'_

Rather than say this, however, she put on a fake smile and nodded.

"Okay. I will see you tomorrow morning then," she responded, noting sadly the joyful look in Alfred's eyes.

"Great! I can't wait for your answer."

Before they departed, he grabbed onto her hands and stared into her shining midnight black eyes.

"You won't regret this Viet, I promise. I know I have some faults, but I guarantee I will always be there for you."

Placing a kiss on both her hands, he separated from her, striding down the hallway toward the Oval Office. Vietnam remained there for a moment, wishing he hadn't said that. If would've been so much easier to leave had he not said a word.

"Alfred…I'm sorry…"

A single tear cascaded down her cheek, falling down to the scarlet red carpet below.

Turning away, she walked back toward the Roosevelt Room where her delegates were undoubtedly waiting for her return. She would not even bother telling them what had transpired between her and Alfred; she already knew what their reaction would be.

In the morning, she was expected to have a response to Alfred's question. He did not know, however, that, come morning, she and her diplomats would be well on their way back to Vietnam.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, it's a big decision and all, but we've had so much history together, boss! Of course she'll say yes!"

The President reclined back in his chair as he listened to Alfred's story. It was a welcome sight to see his nation so happy; he'd been worried about him for some time. What with all the pressure he was under as the world's superpower, it was a wonder he hadn't ever snapped. He was worried that Alfred's sudden burst of happiness might have negative consequences, however.

"And what happens if she declines?" he asked, getting right to the point. "I know it seems unlikely to you, but still, what would you do?"

America's smile seemed to falter a bit at that. He'd never considered that possibility.

"Well…., I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world, right?" he said half-heartedly, not believing his own words. "I mean, she's her own country and all, I guess I would understand if she didn't want to take such a step."

"You wouldn't try anything to change her mind? You do have the power to do so."

Alfred paused. What was his president trying to suggest? That he would actually_ force_ Vietnam to join him? That was crazy! Only dictatorships did things like that! Dictatorships or…..or empires.

"Hey, come on boss! We both know that isn't gonna happen. Quit putting all that negative energy in the air. Tomorrow morning, Viet and I will be standing right here, and she'll be the United States' newest territory; clean cut and without a drop of blood being spilled."

Alfred, confident in Viet's decision, gathered a stack of papers from his desk and proceeded home. Morning could not come soon enough for the superpower.

The President, however, knew what Alfred did not. A few moments ago, an email came to his computer. The Vietnamese embassy, their representative included, would be departing within a matter of hours. Operations were to be shut down for a month's time, at which point the regular embassy staff would return. Their nation, he rightly assumed, would not be joining them.

"She's trying to save you some pain, Alfred," he said to no one in particular. "Try to understand that tomorrow."

His nation was growing unstable. Not the physical nation, of course, that remained as peaceable as he could manage. Its representative, however, was undergoing a strange and powerful transformation.

It was subtle at first. Alfred would occasionally quote Caesar or Napoleon, when he had not met either man. He was constantly pouring over military recruitment numbers, pushing technological advancement, and was always keeping an eye on unstable nations, not in the interest of keeping peace, but in asserting his authority in the region.

Then, things began to get a lot more serious. His actions against Iran's representative certainly fell under this category.

These were all dangerous signs. Signs nations often showed before embarking on the quest for empire.

"Tomorrow's going to be very different," he realized. "I can only hope that, in the end, Alfred will be able to find himself once more."

The President powered down his laptop and rose up from his desk. There remained nothing else to do but wait. Before exiting his office, however, he caught sight of the high quality; hand stitched American flag by the door. With military precision, he saluted the Star - Spangled Banner, a symbol of his dedication to protect and improve the lives of his people to the best of his ability as president.

"We're in your hands now, Alfred," he boldly declared. "Whatever happens tomorrow is all up to you."

He then turned off the lights to the Oval Office, closing the door behind him with a resounding click.

**Author's Note: So, by show of hands, who's upset with what just happened? *I raise my own hand* Yeah, I feel your pain. But don't despair! This is merely a device with which I shall advance the plot of this fanfiction. A good friend of mine, who's read and critiqued just about everything I've ever written, and I decided that a VietnamxAmerica can't work presently.**

**In the meantime, we'll be keeping an eye on Alfred, who's now dangerously close to losing what little sense of democratic reasoning he has left.**

**What will come as a result?**

**Tune in next week to find out!**


	5. Sic Semper Tyrannis

**Well, it's been more than a week, but at last, Chapter 5 is here! I thank you all very much for your patience and reviews; it truly means a lot. The reason for my long departure, in addition to the usual reasons (school, life, etc.) was that I was challenging the fundamental plot of the story. I wanted to ensure I gave you readers the best story possible and wasn't wasting your valuable time. As always, I am open to suggestions, and hope that this chapter will live up to your expectations. Most of the plot has been laid down so far, but changes and ideas are always welcome. Enjoy!**

Chapter 5: Sic Semper Tyrannis

President Anderson knew today was going to be momentous. Every day since he'd assumed office, he had woken up to news of some pending crisis or another. Terrorist activity, economic instability in Europe or at home, protests, or Congressional stagnation had haunted him since day one. It never bothered him of course; he knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he was sworn in as the nation's 50th president.

Campaigning on a platform of free market economy and social reform, the then Governor of his home state of Maryland took the people by storm in a magnanimous election. Doing away with secrecy and dishonest politics, President Anderson's approval ratings suffered very little in his opening months. Meetings with foreign dignitaries were handled in the most informal of fashions, with prime ministers discussing trade policies over burgers grilled by the president himself.

He was only a hundred days into his presidency so far, but already it felt like a lifetime. Every day there was a new struggle, a new battle to be fought on a new frontier.

Today, however, was different…

Waking up promptly at 7, there was no briefing of some domestic crisis, no aides breaking down his door to deliver news of economic recession, no joint chiefs clamoring for more defense spending in the wake of a revitalized threat; nothing.

Where he had expected death and riots, instead there was his morning coffee and a fresh bagel. For a fraction of a second, President Anderson thought that perhaps he might finally enjoy the luxuries of peace in his office. The sight of Alfred immediately shattered any such thoughts.

"Morning, chief! Beautiful day, isn't it?"

The nation grinning ear to ear, practically jumping with excitement at what he thought this day would bring. Today was the day Vietnam gave him her answer. Today was the day he married the love of his life. Today was the day he buried those harsh, ever-recurring memories of the war that nearly cost him his sanity.

President Anderson could share in none of this joy, however, knowing full well what was going to happen this day.

"Alfred, you're up early," he noted off-handedly. "You normally don't show up 'til around 10."

"Hey, today's a special day boss! Can't sleep in one a day like this, now can I? There are things to be done, people to invite, treaties to sign, I hope you're ready to make history today!"

The President was about to comment on that when he finally noticed what his nation was wearing.

"Really, Alfred? A tuxedo? What is this, the sixties?"

"Hey, don't knock the threads!" Alfred retorted with a laugh, brushing the velvety black material. "I got this personally from Frank Sinatra back when the Rat Pack was still together."

"So it really _is _from the sixties," Anderson deadpanned.

"It's also the last tux Vietnam ever saw me in," America added, almost to himself. "It was back in '67, when things weren't too bad. I had taken her to one of the U.S.O. performances. Wanted to look my best, you know? Don't get me wrong, the soldier's uniform is great, but there's nothing quite like dressing to impress the gal you love."

"I know what you mean," he responded, thinking fondly of the times he'd spent with his wife. "But, uh, listen, Alfred. I think there's something you should know before you get too into this."

"Oh, I thought this might happen…."

The president was taken aback by this sudden revelation.

"You…you did?"

"Of course, it was only too obvious this was going to happen…Vietnam's government is playing hardball with the negotiations, aren't they? I knew they would! We recognized them back in '95, but relations haven't always been amiable between us. But don't you worry about it, boss! Once Viet gets here, I'll chat with them personally; offer a few incentives, and all this red tape will be cleared up!"

The happy look on his nation's face did nothing to lift the President's spirits. It seemed Alfred really wasn't seeing the situation as clearly as he thought he was.

"Why don't we continue this conversation in the Oval Office?" he offered. "We can…go over the rest of the negotiations in there."

"Totally! I'll call Viet to see when she's coming by when we're there."

The two headed off in the direction of the famous Presidential office. President Anderson, however, was not looking forward to what he would have to say when he got there. He took another sip of coffee, the taste losing its flavor as the dread began to enter his mind. He never liked being the bearer of bad news, and certainly not to Alfred. The young superpower, being host to hundreds of ethnicities, dialects, languages, worldviews, cultures, beliefs, and opinions, was not exactly the most stable when it came to receiving bad news.

'These are the times when I really wonder if I'm cut out for this office,' he thought to himself, his feet shuffling into his beloved Oval Office.

Alfred immediately bounded over to his own desk, powering up the computer to contact Vietnam. Alfred was more mature than people gave him credit, but in many areas, he was just as young as he appeared to be. The gleam in his eye was evidence enough of that.

"Listen Al, before you try and call Vietnam, I just want you to know what an honor it's been to know you. You're a great country, and I'm proud to have served with you."

America, too wrapped up in trying to reach his lover, caught none of the president's undertone.

"Ah, come on, boss. You make it sound like something bad's gonna happen! I'll still be the same old United States of America, just…..with….Vietnam?"

Try as he might, none of Vietnam's contacts were working. Her web-chat profile was offline, the embassy website was down, and she'd answered none of his emails…

"My phone!" he said suddenly. "I'll call her, that's what I'll do!"

Hurriedly whipping out his iPhone, he punched in Viet's speed dial code: 1975. Pacing back and forth across the Presidential seal, he listened intently as the phone rang once, then twice, then a third time. Following the fourth ring, the call went to straight to a prerecorded message. Alfred was about to hang up and attempt another call, but stopped when the voicemail addressed him by name.

'_Alfred…I want to thank you for everything you've done on my behalf. You believed in me when I wasn't able to believe in myself. I will never forget everything you did to try and keep my government alive. But…..times have changed, Alfred. I am no longer a struggling semi-democratic nation; I am socialist. I am no longer in need of aid from your country; ASEAN provides for my needs. I am no longer on the brink of destruction; I am now a nation in my own right. It's been hard, but I am finally free, just not in the way you'd imagined. I'm sorry Alfred, but my answer is no, I will not abandon my hard-won sovereignty for you. You will always be a hero to me, but I'm afraid that is all you will be to me. I have moved on, you should do the same.'_

America let the phone slip from his hands, impacting on the plush carpet below, the sound barely audible. President Anderson didn't have to hear the voicemail to know what was said; Alfred's face told him everything he needed to know. Picking up the cell phone and hitting the end call button, he walked over to his wounded nation.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, Al," he consoled, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now."

America looked his president in the eye. To Anderson's surprise, he was smiling. A fraction of a second later, however, he knew that this smile was not Alfred's natural expression.

"It…It's all right, boss. This always happens, you know? I…we…we help other nations when they're in a jam, we sacrifice ourselves for their benefit, send our own soldiers to fight their battles, our own food to feed their people, our own wealth to prop up their regime, all out of a sense of service. But then….when the war's over, when the crisis is averted, when the situation handled, they….they don't want to see us anymore."

The smile fell from his voice, his voice beginning to break.

"Do…do you know what it's like to save someone's life, and then have them spit in your face? I do….it's happened countless times. Whether in France, Korea, Vietnam….it's all the same. They beg for my help, but once I'm there, they treat me like trash. Some of them have even had the nerve to say to me, 'You're nothing but an imperialist. If it weren't for you, our country would be better off.' Can you imagine that? I go to foreign lands, places I've never even heard of, because I want to help. I'm the hero! That's what I do! But….everyone else is so jaded; they can never understand why somebody would want to help them if they had nothing to gain. I just wanted to help…I TOLD THEM I WANTED TO HELP!"

In a fit of anger, Alfred slammed his fists on a nearby desk, his strength crushing the solid oak. Turning around, President Anderson saw the anger in his nation's eyes as tears poured down his face.

"WHY DO THEY ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME?! WHY?! I OFFER THEM RESPECT, AND THEY SHOW ME NONE! I OFFER THEM FREEDOM, AND THEY CALL ME AN OPPRESSOR! I OFFER THEM LIFE, AND THEY GIVE ME NOTHING BUT DEATH!"

At this moment, Alfred broke down into sobs, falling to his knees as all the pain and heartache he'd had to endure finally came pouring out. The president, having never seen this side of his country before, did the only thing he could think to do. Helping Alfred to his feet, he embraced him, letting him release all the pent up emotions.

'Is this what it means to truly understand a nation's pain?' Anderson wondered, his suit jacket stained with Alfred's tears.

After a few moments, the sobs gradually subsided, replaced by an occasional sniffle. Finally, Alfred looked his president in the eye, his face filled with a steely resolve.

"Never again will I allow them to hurt our nation or our people," he declared. "We are through being the aid-givers of the world. Those worthy of our love and support will be those who truly know what it means to be an ally and a friend. Some will die because this, I know. But then again, they've been dying whether we did something or not, am I right? But no, no more of this 'friendly superpower' crap. It's gotten old. If the people of the world really want me to be an oppressor, then I shall become what they so desperately want me to be."

"What are you saying, Alfred?"

"Isn't it obvious? If every superpower before us wants to create empires and destroy those who do wrong to them, we shall build an empire of our own. Those who join us willingly, or have not wronged us, will suffer no ill treatment, but will gain every benefit awarded to the friends of America. Those who do not…will be made to understand."

"I understand there are those who've wronged you, but…..an empire Alfred? Is that the answer?"

Alfred smiled at him; it was an odd combination of ambition and natural joy.

"What was it you told the people you wanted to do as President?"

"Bring pride back to America," they state simultaneously.

"I will do that for you, boss. I will create an army capable of conquering the world, and we will make the American Empire shine brighter than any nation or kingdom ever before seen on this Earth. We will be a city on a hill, and we will show people the way. A new age has dawned; and Vietnam shall be our moment of reckoning!

_"Sources have now confirmed that the Islamic Republic of Iran, the latest nation to begin enrichment of uranium for the purpose of becoming a nuclear state, has now rescinded orders to its top scientists, halting the production of uranium cake. Western media sources were unable to reach government officials for a comment, but according to online blogs, the act comes in response to, 'strong-handed U.S. negotiations and incentives.' These actions appear to mark a shift in American foreign policy and may signal a sharp change in geopolitical affairs."_

With the press of a button, the plasma screen television was muted, blanketing the room in silence. Not a word was spoken for several moments, the news report just beginning to sink in with all of them. This came as a great surprise. They knew Alfred had the power to do such a thing, but never would've guessed he also possessed the motivation to use it.

"Can anyone explain what's just happened here?" Arthur Kirkland, representative of Great Britain, asked the gathered assembly.

In that single, unassuming room, nearly every international group and organization was present. The European Union, the G8, G20, and NATO, with the conspicuous absence of both Canada and Alfred, had met secretly together in one of the lower echelons of the United Nations headquarters.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ivan asked rhetorically. "He feels he is not well represented in the world anymore. He wants to show that he is still strong."

"That's precisely my point!" Arthur countered. "Alfred was supposed to be in decline. Now, all of a sudden, he's threatening Iran? It doesn't seem to add up…"

"Maybe internal pressure has caused him to act out internationally?" Germany offered. "It wouldn't be the first time that's happened."

"It's possible, but unlikely. If that were the case, he'd be out offering aid to third world countries, or championing some new cause. He's been acting different as of late; colder, more reserved."

"Why don't we just go and talk to him?" Italy suggested. "We can find out why he's been acting so strange!"

"No."

Everyone turned to see the face of the objection. Sitting impassively was Wang Yao, the representation of China.

"It wouldn't be wise to let him know we've noticed his difference in behavior. It might only make him suspicious of our motives. We should approach the situation cautiously, watch what he does. See if we can deduce for ourselves the cause of his sudden aggression."

"Maybe we should try something to rattle him?" France suggested. "See what kind of response we can provoke from his country. Why not call in the debts he owes some of you? That should hasten his demise by all means. At the very least, we'll get something out of him."

"Motives? Demise? What is going on here?!"

Kiku Honda, the nation of Japan, had risen to his feet, staring at the combined nations with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Japan, surely you know what's being discussed here," Arthur responded, having no idea where this sudden outburst had come from. "The world is changing; it has been for quite some time. Alfred's country is becoming a liability to us. He's been declining for years now and you know it. We are to see to his demise and to fill any power vacuums his departure might open up. Now can we please carry on with the discussion?"

"No!" he exclaimed, surprising even himself with the level of intensity. "We are Alfred's friends, not his enemies! It's true, he's been declining for some time, but I thought we were here to help him!"

"We're not here to help that hypocrite; we're here to get rid of him!" Turkey retorted fiercely, stating what, until then, had gone unsaid.

Japan was shocked. The gathered nations, his friends, family, and comrades, were attempting to overthrow the world's superpower?

"Kiku, you surprise me," Yao mused, his interest piqued by his former ward's outburst. "Of all of us, you especially have reason to want him to fall. How many of your people did he kill with those atom bombs? 100,000? 200,000? And how many maimed? Scarred? Orphaned? Ruined? All because he wouldn't agree to the one simple request you asked for your surrender?"

It was insulting to have China remind him of that. Not a day went by that the phantom pains of the two bombs did not rack his mind and body. Nuclear wounds never healed; something he never told Alfred. The pain subsided, but never vanished. During the war, he hated Alfred. He was the Yankee imperialist who, through force of arms, had blasted opened the doors to his country, inviting war, rebellion and militarism.

After the war, however, Kiku saw America's true colors. The mask of war descended from his face, and the cheerful, freedom-loving nation appeared, offering aid, support, and protection to his shattered nation. Granted, the destruction was caused by Alfred, but Kiku was not so sure that, if he had won, he would've shown Alfred the same treatment shown to him.

"Alfred has done many bad things. But so have all of you, myself included. We cannot judge him for the past if we are unwilling to judge ourselves. He has been very kind to my people and me for over half a century. I will NOT betray his kindness!"

"Kiku, why don't you sit back down?" Russia offered. "I think you're getting a bit too excited."

"And YOU!" Japan countered, pointing a finger at the giant Russian. "I am very surprised at you! Sitting here calmly while they plot the overthrow of America! If you were a real comrade, you'd walk out of here right now, instead of contributing to this madness!"

Ivan stared back at him, hoping the island nation would see reason, but, finding him too wrapped in passion, resigned. Lighting a cigar, he returned his attention to the other nations.

Kiku was left alone, the only one willing to support his western ally.

"Japan, if you're unwilling to assist us, then I must say, you are against us," Britain announced. "Out of a notion of civility, we will allow you to leave peacefully, but know that, if you stand in our way, you too can and will, be replaced."

Kiku took one last look at the gathered nations. He saw in the faces of some, uncertainty and doubt, but none great enough to abandon the others.

"I see. Good day then."

Quickly closing his laptop, Japan stormed out of the conference room, incensed at what he'd just witnessed.

"I've got to tell Mr. America what they're planning," he whispered to himself. "He must know the truth."

Back in the meeting, Ivan sighed in between puffs of his cigar. Japan's heart was in the right place, but his loyalty was a touch too obvious. Had he demurred, he would've been able to provide Alfred with consistent information as to the other nation's goals and plans, which was precisely why he had not stormed out with Kiku.

'If only the Kremlin could see me now,' he mused. 'Fifty years of plotting the destruction of America, and now, here I am, gathering information to protect him. My, how times have changed.'

Returning his attention to the meeting, Ivan listened as Britain continued to rant over his former colony.

"As you all can see, despite Japan's misgivings, our case is both necessary and just. The age of American dominance has finally come to an end. These are the twilight moments of his ambition; it is time to deal him the death blow. In the coming weeks and months, I expect all of you to begin preparations for the decline and fall of the American would-be empire."

_End Chapter 5_

**Who will be correct? Is this the rising sun of a new American Empire, or the dwindling twilight of a would be superpower? Tune in next time to find out!**


	6. Good Morning Vietnam!

**Author's Note: And so…it begins…**

**Disclaimer: (I've never really added this before, but here goes nothing!) I do not own Hetalia or any characters/ names associated with it. I own only the ideas represented in this fanfiction and the OCs made for it.**

Chapter 6: Good Morning Vietnam!

*3 Months Later*

The night air was crisp over the skies of Northern Vietnam. January in Southeast Asia seldom brought with it cold winds and temperatures. Humidity saturated the air, churning up massive amounts of fog. Normally, such thick blankets of condensed moisture would prohibit any kind of air travel. On that warm January night, however, it served as the perfect cover.

Under cover of a night, a massive fleet of black Chinook helicopters beat their way across the Vietnamese sky. Utilizing both the fog and its highly secretive stealth technology for cover, a formation of nearly one hundred choppers inconspicuously headed deep into Vietnam's airspace. Each helicopter, in addition to its pilot and door gunners, was packed with up to forty heavily armed soldiers dressed in all black. The futuristic armor and weaponry seemed straight out of a science fiction novel; black visors with telecomm links, portable UAVs, armor plating far more advanced than Kevlar, and that was only what the average soldier possessed.

Their mission was clear. Deep inside central Hanoi there was a package that needed extraction. Any obstacles in their path, barring innocent civilians, were to be deemed hostile and neutralized on sight. The mission had to be executed perfectly, or not at all, their commander had made that evidently clear…

Within the flagship of the formation, a lone figure stood. Due to the delicate nature of his own personal agenda, he'd requested his own helicopter. No one else was with him, not even a pilot; the chopper was flying solely on the preprogrammed instructions he'd given it. The dim blue glow of information streamed across his visor, giving him second-by-second intel on the movements of his troops. While his aerial forces approached the capital from the south, his aquatic forces traveled down the Red River to dismantle Hanoi's primary defense forces. In all, about 6,000 of his 10,000 total forces would be taking part in this little exercise.

Tapping his thumb knuckle to activate the built-in microphone, he dictated a message to his troops.

"The package is located within the Presidential Palace in Hanoi. Bravo team, upon landing, rally to me and prepare to storm the palace. The president and all government officials are to be captured, not killed. No harm is to come to the package; I repeat: no harm."

Switching off the mike, he patiently waited as the choppers crossed the last few miles of airspace separating them from their intended target. It had taken months of preparation, planning, and practice, but at last, his goal was in sight. They were now going to play by his rules.

"I'm coming for you," he murmured, his hand repeatedly flexing and relaxing his grip on his 500 .50 cal Magnum. "It won't be much longer now…"

Vietnam slept peacefully that night, or rather, _had _been sleeping until the faint, but familiar sound of rotor blades entered her room. For a moment, she had almost thought she was still in the sixties, flying across the hot, open expanse of her country with Alfred at her side. It was a warm memory, one she held dear to her in those early years after he'd left. Yet, for all the pleasant feelings the memory brought, it had never before felt so real.

Her eyes suddenly shot upon when she realized that the beating of helicopter blades was not fantasy, but reality. It sounded like there were dozens of them hovering over her city, moving closer and closer to her location.

"The military doesn't train this close to the capital," she reminded herself, slowly getting out of bed. "And even if they did, it would never be this late at night."

Briefly glancing at the clock by her bedside, she noted that it was well past midnight. This was beyond strange. What was going on? Feeling wary, she reached for her cellphone, intent on putting in a call to the president. Surely he would know what was going on.

Quickly punching in the number, she waited for the phone to begin ringing.

It never did.

"Aqua team, were those communication towers successfully disabled?" the commander asked via telecoms.

"Affirmative, all telecoms are down within a ten mile radius," one of his platoon leaders responded. "We're Oscar Mike to the next location."

"Copy that, we'll be at Landing Zone Foxtrot at 100 hours."

Switching over to a different frequency, he issued an order to his still airborne troops.

"All right, gentlemen, time to wake up the neighborhood. The Hanoi Police Bureau is twenty-two degrees west. Door gunners! Take aim and fire on my command!"

Pulling at the latch, he effortlessly slid open the helicopter's main door. Taking hold of the Minigun positioned there, he aimed the massive weapon at the police department below. Military forces, according to the intelligence he'd gathered, were miles away from the city. With no means of getting a message outside of Hanoi, they were essentially neutralized as a fighting force. Besides, even if they had somehow managed to discover what was going on, he'd taken the precaution of mining all the roads leading in or out of the city. Anything trying to enter would be utterly destroyed.

Taking a moment to allow the gun's barrels to begin spinning, he paused before giving the order. As he stared down at the red-roofed bureau below, he thought back to a movie he'd seen back in the eighties whose message was clearer now than it was then.

Switching the microphone back on, he uttered a phrase from the film, one many of soldiers would be familiar with.

"Good morning Vietnam!"

With that, he pressed back on the trigger, urging all other gunners to do the same.

While the beating of helicopter blades was extremely rare over Hanoi, hearing Miniguns being fired was literally something that had not occurred in decades. Vietnam wasn't even entirely certain if her military _possessed_ such high-powered guns. There was only one conclusion; only one situation that would explain the strange occurrences happening on that night.

Her country was being invaded.

With no working phone lines or internet connection, there was only one thing she could. Reaching underneath her pillow, she pulled out a titanium-plated M1911 pistol, a gift from Alfred. Hurrying over toward the door, she cautiously opened it and peeked out into the lit hallway. All around her, pandemonium seemed to be breaking out. They had no idea who was attacking, what they wanted, or even how many there were. All that could be known was that a powerful military force had managed to slip in undetected and disable their capital city in a matter of hours.

Government officials were hustling all around her, shredding documents, deleting computer files, anything that could be done to protect the nation. Everyone was terrified, the looks of shock and fear on their faces doing nothing to offset the uneasiness of the attack.

Pushing her way through the panicking crowd, Vietnam made her way toward the president's office. Inside, dozens of military leaders, political advisors, and the like were all crowded together, pouring over maps, dialing on phones that didn't work, and trying to get a read on the situation. Other than a brief glance in her direction, no one noticed her arrival.

"Who's doing this?" she demanded, rushing over toward the president. "Is it terrorists?"

"No, it can't be," he responded, never looking up from the map. "They're too advanced. Radar never detected their arrival."

"Well, can't we get word out to the military?" one of the generals suggested.

"How? Phones are down, internet is gone. Would you like us to send a carrier pigeon?"

"If that's what's necessary! But by all means, we must do something! We can't land strangers come in and besiege our capital without putting up a fight!"

"The telegraph cable!" Vietnam instantly remembered. "The French installed a telegraph cable decades ago that we never destroyed. It's hooked right up to the radio station. We can use that to contact the rest of the country!"

Left with no other option, the president pointed to one of the nearby soldiers standing guard.

"Get a message to the nearest base! We need them here now!"

"All right, gentlemen, call off the shooters, this building's toast."

Looking down at the smoking ruins of what was once the Hanoi Police Bureau; the commander knew for certain that no one had made it out alive.

"Job well done; we're approaching L.Z. Foxtrot, be ready to dismount in two minutes!"

As his auto-piloted helicopter turned towards the predetermined landing zone, a disturbing sound filtered into his ears. His helmet, in addition to being connected to his team's telecoms, was also hooked into one of the Vietnamese radio stations. He'd considered destroying it, but, thinking long-term, ultimately decided against it. Now, however, he was beginning to regret that decision.

Somehow, the Vietnamese were sending a Morse code message through the radio station antenna and sending it out across the country.

"They're trying to reach the military!" he exclaimed in shock, before reactivating his com-link. "Aqua team! Divert progress to the radio station! They're trying to send out a message to the military; we need to destroy it! Use of LAW rockets is authorized!"

Immediately after sending the message, he pulled up a map of the city and Aqua team's current location.

'It'll take at least ten minutes before they get into range of the antenna. They'll have gotten the message out by then!'

"Aqua team, belay that previous order and continue as planned! I'll take care of the antenna personally."

Hurrying over the control panel of his helicopter, he quickly disabled the previous instructions, inputting a new path for the auto-chopper. As soon as it was entered, the Chinook made a sharp turn and started heading in an alternate direction.

Sighing in satisfaction, he moved away from the controls.

"It'll reach the station in less than three minutes. When it's in range, the Minigun will activate and take it down. Not a perfect solution, but it'll have to do."

With the helicopter now flying in a different direction than was helpful to him, he was now no longer needed as its passenger.

"Looks like I'll foot it from here," he muttered to himself, grabbing a parachute. "Bravo team, I'll meet you at L.Z. Foxtrot in one minute. Wait for me until moving into position."

Without hesitation or caution, he leapt out the open helicopter, pulling the ripcord just in time to ensure a safe landing.

"What just happened?!" the Vietnamese president demanded, listening as the nearby radio suddenly went dead.

"They've hit the radio station! I couldn't finish the telegraph message!"

Were it not for the overwhelming fear clutching at his heart, the president might've attempted to flee the city, however unlikely his success would be. This enemy seemed to be one step ahead of them at every move. Was there anything they could do?

Vietnam realized the severity of the situation instantly, the emotions registering on a far deeper level than any in the room could comprehend. She'd experienced this once before, back in Saigon. There was no way she could've saved the city then, but there was at least one option that could be undertaken to lessen the impact of the strike.

"Mr. President, we've got to get you and as many Ministers as we can to safety," she finally announced. "You've got to evacuate the city."

Those in the room looked at her as if she'd just prophesied the end of the world.

"We cannot do that!" the president objected. "If we abandon the capital, that means we are surrendering!"

"Either you leave now or you may not get a chance to surrender later!"

As soon as those words left her mouth, a barrage of rockets impacted against the Presidential Palace.

"They're here!" several officials cried in terror.

Vietnam, realizing there was little time left, physically tried to push the president out of the room and toward the helicopter kept on the roof for just such an emergency.

"Mr. President, you've got to leave NOW!"

Try as she might, he would not listen. After bracing the impact of another round of rockets, the President pointed to two nearby guards.

"Both of you! Get her to the bunker and keep her safe! It doesn't matter what happens to me; she is our top priority!"

The two soldiers instantly raced forward to grab their nation's representative. Vietnam, though surprised by their actions, was still intent on ensuring the President's escape.

"You've got to leave Mr. President! We don't know what they want! They might kill you!"

"After this final barrage, cease fire!" the commander ordered, watching as a final volley of LAW rockets were launched at the once beautiful presidential palace.

The building was charred and blackened; much of the vegetation surrounding it had either been incinerated or crushed by falling debris.

"I'm more of a fan of knocking on the door, but I guess this plan works too!"

The soldiers within earshot laughed at their leader's joke; it did much to calm their nerves.

"All right, we're just about done here boys. Bravo team, on me. Everyone else, surround the palace grounds; capture any who try to escape. Aqua team should rendezvous with you in the next minute. When they arrive, instruct them to aim Stinger missiles at the rooftop, just in case anyone tries to escape."

Wordlessly obeying, he watched as his soldiers immediately fanned out, encircling the palace grounds while the recently arrived Aqua team set up Stinger positions at the roof. Everything was going according to plan.

"Bravo team, the package is located inside the palace. You are to neutralize any threats and capture any and all government officials. Do not engage unless fired upon, understood?"

Un-holstering his .50 magnum, the commander walked straight up to the Palace doors, Bravo team following immediately behind.

"I told you I'd come back for you," he whispered softly, before slamming his foot into the solid mahogany doors, kicking them off their hinges.

Everything was dark inside of the bunker; dark and eerily quiet. Its design was relatively new, having come about at the end of the war, yet their top engineers had ensured the President that it was safe. Guarding the outside of the bunker were the two guards, Ak-47s at the ready, determined to prevent any harm from coming to their nation's representative. While she appreciated their loyalty and patriotism, she'd wished the President had taken her advice to flee.

Whoever this enemy was, he was after something big. Her country didn't have all that much to entice such a well-coordinated invasion, so it was likely some kind of personal vendetta.

Suddenly, without warning, the sound of rapid gunfire funneled into the bunker through the ventilation shaft. Shots were being fired and returned at such a fast rate, it sounded as if a battle were taking place.

The sound of her own soldiers' guns was distinct, the Ak making a particularly unique noise, yet the guns of the enemy sounded strangely familiar as well, almost as if she'd heard the sound before.

She didn't know why, but without warning, an old memory funneled into her mind.

_"I'll find a way for us to be together again; I promise. I'm not going to let my Miss Saigon down_…"

There was no explainable reason why that memory, of all the ones she possessed, would filter into remembrance now. She had little time to ponder this strange event, however. Suddenly, all the gunfire that had filtered in had stopped.

"What's going on out there?" she wondered aloud, wishing she had been out there to defend her capital.

With a final resounding blast from his magnum, the last of the guards was quickly dispatched. The halls fell silent, the members of Bravo team scouring through the various nooks and crannies, ensuring there would be no surprises ahead of them.

"I remember the Vietnamese being significantly tougher," the Commander said to himself with a chuckle, casually reloading his gun's bullets one at a time.

"Sir, all the rooms are cleared, all that's left is the Presidential Office and the underground bunker."

"Excellent," he responded over the link. "You guys take the Office. Remember, I don't want you shooting unless they shoot first; I want as many living captives as possible. The package, I'm assuming, is inside the bunker. Meet me outside, boys."

Following the map on his visor, he turned a corner and headed down a series of stairs toward the not-so-secret bunker. All of his planning, determination, and resolve came down to this final moment. Nothing else mattered now. Switching off the com-link, he readied his pistol, intent on finishing this once and for all.

Two shots were fired.

They both sounded disturbingly close, almost as if they occurred right outside the bunker door. Following the sound of the bullets, the room was again blanketed in silence. This silence, however, was filled with a deep feeling of dread, as if something was waiting for her on the other side.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the bunker door.

Her heart was pounding against her chest, her anxiety growing with each passing second. The knocking came again, this time more urgent. Gripping her pistol as tightly as she could, she slowly reached for the handle. Every cell in her body screamed in protest, but, if the was as determined to capture her as they had proven so far, a few inches of steel wasn't going to protect her very long. She stood a larger chance of taking the enemy down by herself than simply waiting for them to break in.

Unlatching the door, she watched as the bunker swung open, revealing to the outside world. In one corner of the hall, she saw the dead body of one of her guards, standing in front of her, however, was the second, staring directly at her.

"What happened out here?" she asked him.

Instead of answering, his body crumpled to the ground, revealing a figure dressed entirely in black. She gasped at the sight of him, realizing both her guards were now dead. Drawing her pistol, she attempted to take him out, but stopped upon realizing the barrel of a gun was already pressed against her forehead.

"Please drop the gun," the unknown figure asked politely.

Vietnam was torn. An ordinary bullet to the head, though painful, wouldn't be enough to kill her. It would, however, be reflected on her people and her country, resulting in the death of innocents. Relenting to her sense of humanity, she dropped the pistol to the ground. To her surprise, the masked man did the same.

"It's so good to see you again, Vietnam," he spoke, beginning to remove his helmet. "Your message left me greatly wounded."

Letting the helmet fall to the ground, he revealed himself to the nation, noting the shocked look on her face.

"Alfred?! What are you doing here?"

America grinned at the surprise on his love's face.

"I'm here to do what I should've done all those years ago," he responded cryptically.

"What on Earth do you mean?"

He laughed at her confusion, the joy on his face genuine at the sight of her.

"You'll see in just a moment. Come on, I'll show you outside!"

Unwilling to take no for an answer, he picked up the Vietnamese representative bridal style, much to her protest, and carried her out of the now empty presidential palace.

Waiting to greet them were all of Alfred' soldiers, arranged in parade formation. Hovering above were several Chinook helicopters, their spotlights engaged and focused on those in the center of the palace grounds. Their heads' covered and hands bound behind them, were the leading members of Vietnam's government.

"How did you manage this?" she asked, in awe of the skill his soldiers had to possess.

"Oh it wasn't easy, let me tell you! I had to scour my nation for the most elite fighters, and then find the elites among their ranks. Out of my entire country, only 10,000 passed the bar I set for them. What you're looking at right now Viet aren't SEALs or Green Berets. No, I formed a brand new Special Forces unit dedicated to fighting America's battles overseas. I call them: the Minutemen."

"And they managed to do all this?"

"Well, with my assistance, yes. I had to bring in a lot of cutting edge technology to get the job done, but it would've been impossible without their help."

Alfred halted in the middle of the presidential grounds, placing Vietnam back on her feet in full view of his small army. The sight of so many soldiers, their faces covered by dark visors, made it seem as if she had somehow stepped into a Star Wars movie. One look at the firepower they were carrying, however, dismissed any thoughts that this might just be another of Alfred's jokes. He was serious this time, if the bodies littering the ground were any indication; deadly serious.

"Now then, it's time to do what I came here to do."

"W-what's that?"

"The same thing as before!"

With a quick snap of his fingers, one of the Minutemen stepped forward, presenting to Alfred a small velvet box.

"I'm not sure if you recall, Viet, what I said to you all those years ago. I promised that I would come back for you; I promised that I'd return. For a while, I thought that simply recognizing you as a nation again, as I did in '95, meant that I'd succeeded in my goal. But recently, I came to realize that simply acknowledging your existence is not what I'd intended. Doing that is akin to saying that I regret ever trying to prevent the socialist takeover. I told you that I should've annexed you; I stand by my statement."

Alfred paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully up at the red Vietnamese flag flying in the courtyard.

"This never should've happened. I know I'm late, but I'm here to end it. I am going to annex you, here and now. But, of course, the word 'annex' sounds so terrible and cruel. It just doesn't fit me, you know? So Vietnam, my question remains the same."

Opening the velvet box, he revealed a gold ring covered in yellow diamonds with a ruby center, bearing an eerie resemblance to the flag of South Vietnam. Kneeling down, he proposed the same question he'd asked before on that busy D.C. crosswalk.

"Will you marry me?"

Silence followed for several seconds, Vietnam completely baffled by his question. He stared up at her expectantly, waiting for her answer.

"You came all this way, did….all of this, because you wanted me to marry you?"

He smirked, throwing a glance over to the Minutemen.

"Well, most of it. The Minutemen serve a higher purpose than simply this, and you are merely the first of many whom I plan to annex, but I chose you as the first because I wanted to ask you this question. So….your answer?"

The helicopters above hovered idly in the air, their respective spotlights focused directly on her and Alfred.

"Well….I can't really say no, can I?"

"What makes you say that? You're free to do as you wish; you can say no. Granted, if you do, you'll still be annexed. If you say yes, however, I can promise you great reward in the future that we will build for this world, together. The choice is yours."

The silence returned for a moment. Inwardly, Alfred was struggling to contain his imperial nature, who was screaming at him to enact the harshest policies imaginable should she refuse. Hanging on to what little sense of reason he had left, he knew that such a thing would be morally wrong. He was doing this because he loved Vietnam, not to prove a point. There would be plenty of time and more than enough nations for him to prove his point…

"Yes."

The whole world seemed to melt away as Alfred heard those words.

"What…what did you say?"

Vietnam had a small smile on her face, thinking back to their time together.

"I'm saying yes. I will marry you."

A new light seemed to dawn in Alfred's eyes at those words. For a moment, the air of imperialism slackened, his mind contemplating nothing but the joy he felt.

"You….you said yes. You said yes! Guys, she said yes!"

The Minutemen all began to cheer, celebrating the success of their first mission as a unit. Alfred, meanwhile, was oblivious to their shouts of congratulations. Lifting his betrothed into the air, he spun her around and around, his happiness overflowing. Even Vietnam couldn't help but take joy in Alfred's reaction.

"You won't regret it, Vietnam, I promise!" he told her. "This is the beginning of something wonderful! You are the first new territory of the American Empire, and empire that will free the world from itself. You will be a queen among nations, I will see to that. But first, there's one more thing that must be done."

"What's that?"

"The flag!" he said cryptically.

Calling forth another minuteman, he summoned a triangularly folded flag, and presented it to his love.

"I had this specially made, just for the occasion."

Unfurling the flag, Vietnam was hit with a new, dazzling sight. It was the old flag of South Vietnam, bright yellow with three red stripes across the center. In the top left corner, however, was a blue field containing fifty-_one_ stars.

Unsheathing a knife, he ran toward the nearby flagpole that held the symbol of socialist oppression. In a single fluid motion, he sliced through the rope, watching as the Red socialist banner came fluttering to the ground, much to the joy of his soldiers.

"Come on, Vietnam! The honor should be yours!" he beckoned, motioning to the new flag.

Viet, flag in hand, ceremoniously walked forward, stepping past the red flag that had marred her nation for so many years. With Alfred's help, she tied her new symbol to the flagpole, watching as it rose higher and higher in the night sky, beautifully illuminated by over a dozen bright spotlights.

"Welcome to America, Viet," Alfred whispered into her ear, looking up at the flag. "You're home at last."

While it certainly wasn't what she'd expected to happen to her that night, the thought of freedom did indeed feel good to Vietnam. The happenings of the past few hours were strange, and in more than one way, disturbing, but, in the end, it seemed to work out relatively well. She had assumed her country was about to be destroyed, instead, it was liberated, at least in a sense. For the longest time, Alfred had been acting suspicious. Perhaps this was simply all he'd wished to accomplish. Perhaps at last he would return to normal permanently; this talk of empire would soon die, she felt certain of that.

"Hey Vietnam, do you trust me?" he asked plainly.

"Of course I do."

"Good. This may sting a bit, but don't worry, I'm right here. Do it!"

Suddenly, a crack of gunfire pierced through the air of happiness. Vietnam felt a sudden pang in her heart, replaced by a feeling of happiness. Her knees gave out, only for her to be caught by Alfred.

"What….what happened?"

"See for yourself."

Turning her around, Alfred revealed the freshly slain bodies of her government leaders. She gasped at the sight, horrified by what Alfred's troops had done.

"I had to get rid of the socialists in power, that's all," he explained calmly, knowing the pain she was feeling. "I know it seems harsh, but if I didn't do this, they would only come back and insight more bloodshed. Better to kill a few now than thousands later, am I right?"

Still numb from the shock and pain, Vietnam could do nothing but nod weakly.

"Don't worry about it, Viet, the pain should subside very soon. I've already appointed new government leaders for your country, and this time, they aren't going to be U.S. puppets. No more Diem and corrupt politicians like him. The one's I've appointed are proponents of freedom and democracy, with nothing but the best interests of the nation in mind. We will rebuild together, and make Vietnam stronger than ever before."

After being certain that she could stand on her own, he went to addressing his troops.

"The media will be meeting us here at 6:00 am sharp. I need these bodies taken care of, the new leaders installed, and as much of this mess cleaned up as possible."

Receiving a simultaneous salute from his soldiers, Alfred walked back to his new fiancé/territory. It was all finally starting. The beginning of his empire, the beginning of his vengeance, the beginning of so many things finally was starting.

But first, he reminded himself, Vietnam had to be fully integrated into his new empire. There was a lot that had to be done, but the very first thing, he promised himself, was going to be removing Ho Chi Minh City and changing it back to the name of Saigon.

"Change is finally coming, Vietnam. You and I shall usher it in together."

As the minutemen dispersed, the helicopters flew off to the nearby airport for landing, and Alfred escorted his new territory back into the remains of the presidential palace, an unknown figure walked toward the blasted open gates of the grounds, staring in mild surprise at the destruction and the events witnessed.

"This…complicates things greatly," he murmured. "With Vietnam gone, America's influence in Asia will practically double. I must warn the Leader of the events of this day."

Calmly walking back down the road, he stopped at a nearby building and entered, glancing up at the flag of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea fluttering solemnly in the slight breeze.

_End Chapter 6_

**Author's Note: The plot thickens! Now that peace has returned to Southeast Asia, a new enemy appears on the horizon. How will Alfred handle the threat of a furious North Korea? Will the doomsday weapons of mankind, nuclear missiles, at last be needed to defend American sovereignty? Or will the overwhelming might of the greatest superpower the world has ever known crush the sinister socialist nation? And worse, what will occur when news of Alfred's victory funnels back to those who wish him gone?**

**Tune in next time for the exciting continuation of **_**Perhaps**_**!**

**Also, a bit of a postscript. I thought I'd explain, in case some people weren't certain, my logic behind a nation's representative. Because both a physical nation and its representative inhabit the same plane of existence (i.e. Vietnam is ****in ****Vietnam) I believe that what happens to one will affect the other. Similarly, if harm comes to a nation's representative, the pain and destruction of the wound is reflected on the land and people. So, for instance, if Alfred were to be shot, he would not die, but a piece of him, either his natural land or his people, will be hurt as they are, in a sense, what makes him who he is.**

**This concept is going to used quite a bit in future chapters. If it doesn't make total sense, just let me know! I'd be happy to explain further.**

**Thanks so much for your time! If you can, I'd love to read your reviews, they really do help make the writing go by so much faster.**

**See you all later!**


	7. A New Kind of Empire

**Disclaimer: **** I do not own Hetalia or any characters/ names associated with it. I own only the ideas represented in this fanfiction and the OCs made for it.**

Chapter 7: A New Kind of Empire

Cameras flashed and reporters chattered, each trying to get the attention of President Anderson and the gathered delegates. Although largely aware of what Alfred had been planning in Vietnam, Anderson had never imagined his nation's forces would be so successful so quickly. Total capitulation of an entire nation before the sun had time to rise? It was both amazing and terrifying what his country was truly capable of.

Despite his skepticism, he had agreed to remain nearby in Southeast Asia should Alfred be victorious. The thought of a nation suddenly giving up its sovereignty to another nation would be a huge media event; he would have to respond almost instantly. So, under the guise of a foreign policy discussion, the President remained in nearby Thailand, waiting to hear word from his country. It came as a complete and total shock.

"Mr. President! Mr. President! Now that the United States has taken full control of the nation of Vietnam, do you predict hostilities to open up with the People's Republic of China?"

"Absolutely not," he responded, remaining cool under the intense barrage of questions. "Our acquisition of Vietnam is peaceful and lawfully mandated under the administration of my friend, President Nguyễn. We seek peace and prosperity in the region of Southeast Asia, not war."

"But President Nguyễn's term in office has only just begun today. Does this sudden change in executive leadership worry you that stability may be difficult to maintain?"

"I will admit, the inexperience of his administration must be corrected, but with the majority of his citizens standing in support, I feel that any dissent felt amongst the locals will be quickly appeased once our two nations are joined as one."

More reporters chattered their questions at the American leader, the simultaneous cacophony resulting in little actual words being understood. Before the President could call for order, however, a uniformed figure came over him, ushering him toward the limousine that would take him and the delegation to the Presidential Palace for the official treaty. A brief glance at the figure revealed him to be none other than Alfred.

As the reporters melted away, no doubt to reach the palace in time for the historic moment, the nation took his leader aside for a moment.

"Rough round of questioning?" he asked lightheartedly.

"Only the first of many," Anderson replied, taking a much needed breath. "Earlier this morning, the Chinese called, asking if we were looking for an excuse for war. It took quite a bit of negotiating, plus some words from my wife, before we finally managed to smooth the issue over. For now."

"Good thing that wife of yours speaks Mandarin, eh? Ah, but don't worry about China. He's a tough negotiator, but he knows better than to incite war. Bad for business, you know?"

As the two entered the limousine, and the combined forces of the President's Secret Service and Alfred's Minutemen swept the area for threats, the convoy headed out.

"So who all is going to be at this delegation?" Alfred asked, picking up a Vietnamese newspaper, attempting to brush up on the language. "I mean, I know that we're here, and Viet's here as well, anyone else?"

"Actually, yes. This is such an historic moment; I invited practically the whole of Asia. China declined, obviously, but I've already received confirmations from Japan and all the members of ASEAN."

"Really? So Camille's coming too!"

"If you mean the representative of the Philippines, then yes, she'll be arriving as well."

"Excellent!" Alfred cheered. "You know, she was one of our few actual colonies, way back when. It'll be the perfect combination of old and new provinces."

"Speaking of which, are you planning a similar mission to retake the Philippines?"

America paused at that, scratching his head in thought. It was a good point, and would certainly be just easy if not easier. Yet, strangely enough, his imperialist side was staying quiet.

"I….don't think so," he said finally. "Camille was granted her independence by us; it'd be wrong to suddenly take it back. Besides, she's been a loyal and powerful ally in the region for decades. We don't need to conquer the whole world to conquer the world, just enough pieces to make it impossible for us to be stopped. With Vietnam on our side, Southeast Asia is now free and decidedly pro-American."

"You make it sound as if all of ASEAN loves us already."

"Maybe not yet, but they soon will. They soon will."

Two leather-bound copies of the Treaties of Annexation and Compliance, as they came to be known, were signed with solid gold pens, drumming up all the pomp and circumstance such an event warranted. One copy was handed off to President Nguyễn to be kept in the Vietnamese official archives, while the other, given to President Anderson, was to be presented to the world.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" Alfred whispered to Vietnam. "The beginning of our life together, the dawning of a new era."

She glanced up, meeting his joyful gaze.

"This certainly does mean change in the region," she acknowledged, still feeling uneasy. "Are you sure you want to get _this _involved in Asian politics and foreign policy?"

"Oh no, goodness no!" he responded instantly. "I plan to get much more involved than this."

Their conversation was interrupted by the explosion of applause following the signing of the two documents. Anderson and Nguyễn, their mission now completed, stood up and shook the other's hand, ushering a new era of American influence in Southeast Asia. As the second wave of reporters flooded into the room, Alfred watched his president give him an almost imperceptible nod and wink. America smiled at the gesture; it was good to know he had his president's support for his actions.

Before he could return the gesture, however, a new group of individuals broke off from the crowd of reporters and delegates, coming directly toward him. Straightening his tie, he moved to great his allied nations, both old and new, to his latest colony.

"Japan, members of ASEAN, welcome," he greeted formally.

Standing before him, in what was probably the largest crowd of Asians he'd seen since the Viet Cong tried to capture him at Khe Sanh, were the ten representatives of the nations of ASEAN, Burma, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Brunei, and the Philippines.

Breaking any sense of formality, Camille, the representative of the Philippines, jumped into Alfred's arms, happy to see him after so long a time.

"Alfred! I know you'd be coming back to Southeast Asia!"

America, though surprised at her sudden action, eagerly returned her affection. Camille was perhaps his only great colonial success story. After freeing her from Spain, she served as one of his greatest bases in the Pacific. True, they had their disagreements, culminated in the Philippine Insurrection of 1899, but after their differences were put aside, they worked together in harmony. Even after he'd lost her during World War II, she and her people remained dedicated to helping him achieve victory in the Pacific theater.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Camille? I've got to find time to make it to Manila one of these days."

He let go of the Philippine nation reluctantly, noting, with bemused curiosity, the look of slight jealousy in Vietnam's eyes.

"Well then, I suppose all of you here are looking for an explanation."

"We certainly are," Indonesia replied crisply, still upset with their Gradberg Freeport agreement that left her with very little of the money from a lucrative gold mine.

"And all will be explained, I promise. Would you all care to follow me?"

Leading the way, he escorted the eleven nations out of the meeting room and toward a higher level of the Presidential Palace. He knew that many of them would come demanding answers. Rather than simply answer their questions and be done with it, however, Alfred also had a proposition to make before them. One that, if successful, would catapult him into position to finally deal a blow against the world that had betrayed him.

"_The absorption of Vietnam into the United States of America represents a new era of foreign policy. We are not conquerors, nor are we dictators, we seek peace and prosperity. This move will bring about just that. Now that America's presence in Southeast Asia has been solidified, we can better seek economic prosperity, military peace, and honest diplomacy throughout the region. This is the dawning of a new day, not just for America, but for all the world."_

"Did you hear that?!" China exclaimed, lowering the volume on his television as he stared back at the computer screen. "America has taken Vietnam! He's a monster!"

Hundreds of miles away, Ivan smirked at his friend's accusations. Connected via Skype, the two had been talking for nearly an hour about the developing situation.

"You know, Yao, perhaps this isn't the worst thing in the world. I just took a look at the Vietnam Stock Index; apparently most companies are doing rather well in response to this."

"Since when do you care about Vietnamese stocks?"

The giant Russian chuckled at the question.

"I made a few investments, which seem to be paying off right now!"

Yao rolled his eyes at his ally's nonchalant attitude, but reminded himself of the similar investments he'd made into Vietnam which were also increasing.

"This is serious, Ivan. Alfred's getting far too bold in his actions as of late. Now I don't care if he goes around roughing up Iran or bombing one Middle Eastern country or another, but he's right at my doorstep now! I can't just let him get away with this."

"Why not? You do things that threaten him all the time."

"What are you talking about?"

Russia sighed, thinking back to all the incidents between the two strongest nations over the previous years.

"How many times have you refused to do business, walked out of meetings, withdrawn support for sanctions, or cancelled imports, because Alfred and his allies didn't do what you said? I'm not saying what you've done is wrong, I'm simply pointing out that Alfred is acting no differently."

"But I've never taken control of a country before!" Yao argued.

"Haven't you? Granted, you've not done so militarily, but economically, you've besieged just about every nation in the world at least once."

"Well that's Alfred's fault for borrowing so much money from me! Ai-yah, Russia, we're getting off topic here. What do we do about Alfred taking control of Vietnam?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" China repeated, staring back at the former socialist. "Alfred takes over a nation in a single night and you want us to do nothing?"

"For right now, yes. Yao, we do not yet understand what it is that he wants. Let's step back and analyze the situation before we rush headfirst into things. Remember, he just took down an entire nation in less than twenty-four hours; he is not as weakened as you previously thought him to be. So, if you really must know what he's planning, rather than plan some secret mission or try and hack into his systems _again_, why not just call him and talk? He has a great deal of respect for you, you know. If you come to him as an equal, he will be willing to listen."

Yao sighed in resignation. Ivan was right; he usually was. Still, he was not yet willing to go hat in hand to Alfred to find out what was going on. He was supposed to be on the decline. Yao was twelve months away from implementing an economic plan that would ultimately displace the U.S. dollar as the world's reserve currency, putting his own in place of it. He was set to become the world's next superpower, but now, it seemed Alfred was unwilling to go without a fight.

"I suppose you have a point, Ivan. Very well, we'll put this issue to rest, for now. I have work to do. I'll speak with you again soon, yes?"

"Da, I will see you soon."

With a curt farewell, the two signed off, cutting the connection that bridged the massive distance between them. Russia, now alone, leaned back in his office chair, amazed at what Alfred was planning, and the geopolitical ramifications of it.

"I cannot wait to see what you plan to do next, Alfred," he mused to himself. "You've made the world….interesting once again."

Gathered together in the Vietnamese Presidential meeting room, were the ten nations of ASEAN, Japan, and America himself. In that single room, nations with centuries' old grudges, diverse cultures and experiences, distrust, cynicism, and speculation were there to hear from the world's greatest superpower.

"Friends, it is truly a great day when such a gathering of nations can take place in peace and understanding. A great many have given everything of themselves that we might sit here, united in our desire for peace and prosperity. There is great promise and potential in this region to become the dominant sector of manufacturing and growth for decades to come. I consider myself honored to stand amongst you."

"Nice opening, Alfred," Thailand mused. "But please, do get to the point."

"Ah, yes, you are right, I have digressed. For years now, we have been looked down upon, called such horrible things as young, weak, and inexperienced in the management of our own nations. I realize that many of you are indeed older nations than I, but how many of you have been treated as such? How many of you were subjected to the control of a foreign nation? How many of you were oppressed under the heel of China and his men? How many of you here have had to fight for your own independence, just so you could stand on your own as sovereign nations?"

He paused for a moment, noting the empathetic look on many of the gathered nations. He had struck at the core of their history.

"I too have been subjected to foreign rule. Even after achieving independence, I was looked upon as backwater, small, young, and incapable of making a difference. I even became the superpower of the world and the savior of democracy, yet even then they looked down upon me. So know that I understand how you are feeling. I know you are angry and I cannot blame you. For who would not find it tragic that such great nations as you are not on the forefront of progress and prosperity while the barbarian China steals the world's wealth and resources? I know there are many of you who think of me as a bad person; I understand your complaints. I have done many bad things, things that I may never be able to atone for. Yet unlike China, I feel grief and regret for my actions. China, meanwhile, is content to lay waste to Asia in his quest for world domination, without ever apologizing or feeling any kind of remorse. You tell me, which one of us is the true enemy: me, who wants nothing but peace and prosperity for this region, or China, who wants nothing but peace and prosperity for _**himself**_?"

Alfred halted for a moment, taking the time to look each nation in the eye. He could see the anger welling up within them. His plan was working perfectly. Rather than glorify himself in an attempt to persuade them, he was content to instead ignite the powder keg of hatred toward China that most of Southeast Asia felt.

"But Alfred, what can we do to change that?" Vietnam asked, voicing the concern of every member of ASEAN. "China's bigger and stronger than all of us. Even combined, we stand little chance of stopping him."

'That's where you are wrong, Viet. You are stronger than China, much stronger. The reason he lashes out against you and tries to put you down whenever you disagree with his policies is because he fears you. He fears the day when you all realize the truth; that you are mightier than he can ever hope to be. You are united in your goals to achieve prosperity, even in an age of Chinese dominance. I envy the inner strength which you all possess. It makes me realize what great strength can lie in such small nations. But there is still a critical problem. While you all are indeed powerful in your own right, we can destroy this age of Chinese domination only if we work together. Therefore, I have a proposition for you all."

Reaching into a black leather briefcase, Alfred pulled out a small collection of papers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in my hands is the result of three months' work divided amongst me, my president, and some of the greatest minds America has to offer. We call it: the Pact of Friendship. All signers of this document will agree to be bound in unity and peace to all other signed nations. Signing this pact will result in several guarantees. All signed nations are to become full military allies, promising aid and comfort, and, if desired, direct military reinforcements in times of war. The façade of free trade will be abolished and replaced with a set tariff rate of 15%, ensuring that no one nation tyrannizes or takes advantage of another. Scientific and technological advancement knowledge will be shared with all member nations for the benefit of mankind. In times of famine, food will be provided to struggling nations at greatly subsidized prices. In times of economic hardship, loans, not bailouts, will be granted, regardless of what independent credit agencies may say. Corruption, in any government, will be rooted out and dealt with by our own Court of Criminal Affairs. Ultimately, we shall seek to build up our economies through fairness and free market practices. We will not form a singular currency; it serves only to weaken us. I ask those of you gathered now this question. Vietnam has already signed this document, who will join us in the creation of a new kind of empire? An empire guided by truth, justice, peace, and wealth for **all** its provinces, not just its privileged capital. Who will join us?"

The stares back at him realized his words had the impact he was expecting. In a way, he was surprised he had gotten that far. Had this been a World Meeting, he would've been shouted down before he could even explain what the document represented, all because it was America who had produced it. Amongst these nations, however, his words were listened to, his time respected. If they disagreed with what he said, they would wait until he was finished to voice their concerns. It was….refreshing to say the least, to finally have a group of nations who did not think so highly of themselves that the opinion of another was insignificant.

"So, Alfred…," Burma started, being the first to break the silence. "Signing this document….does this mean we become part of your empire?"

"In a way, yes," Alfred admitted. "But not in the way that Britain, France, and China might have you believe. For too long, the provinces of an empire were looked upon as insignificant, pawns, and the slaves of their master nation. Well, as one former colony to others, I say that enough is enough. An American empire will not exist if it insists in calling itself an _American _empire. Instead, I plan to create an empire in which I am its leader. This does not mean that any one of you is less important than I, simply that we each fulfill separate roles. Members of ASEAN, I understand that my words may frighten many of you. You see me as a conqueror, well, you are right. I plan to conquer. I plan to destroy, defeat, and denounce all who have wronged me. For those who have done me little to no wrong, I will spare. You all are included among the latter. Now, I understand your uneasiness; so, allow me to provide an incentive. For all signers of the Pact of Friendship, the United States Treasury shall completely pay the entirety of their government's national debt!"

_That _got everyone's attention. Instantly, the room descended into murmurs and hushed whispers, the gathered nations talking excitedly amongst one another. As they discussed the proposal, Alfred walked over to one of his dearest friends and allies, Kiku Honda, the nation of Japan.

"So, what did you think?" American asked honestly.

"It was very well constructed, and a very tempting offer," Kiku responded. "But Mr. America, we must talk. For the past three months, I've been attempting to warn you of something, but until now, you've been impossible to reach."

"Right, sorry about that. I've been really busy with some projects I've been working on. What is it you wanted to say?"

"It's the U.N.!" he exclaimed in a whisper, just in case any members of ASEAN decided not to join Alfred. "Many of the nations are plotting against you. Britain, France, Germany, China, and countless others! I don't know what exactly they're planning, or even when, but they're up to something. They want to destroy you, Alfred."

Alfred listened attentively, nodding every so often.

"Well, I thought this might happen," he replied nonchalantly. "I just never thought they hated me so much they'd want to get rid of me before I actually did anything! Ah well, guess that's what happens."

Japan, not for the first time in his life, looked at America as if he had suddenly gone crazy.

"The majority of the world declares war on you, and you're not even bothered?"

"Now, tell me one thing Kiku," Alfred continued, not hearing Japan's question. "Was Russia in the meeting?"

"Russia?"

"Right, Ivan. Was he there when all this happened?"

"He was there, yes. But I'm afraid he did not walk out of the meeting when I did."

This news piqued Alfred's interest.

"What exactly did he do?"

"Not much at all, unfortunately. I was upset, I yelled at him for not standing up for you, but he didn't say anything. He just lit a cigar and went back to the meeting."

America stopped him right there, looking him directly in the eye.

"Are you certain that's what he did? You know for _sure_ that he lit a _cigar_?"

"Y-yes, why?"

Alfred's face instantly lightened up at the news.

"Good! We've got a spy on the inside!"

Alfred laughed at the thought of his victory over the enemy nations. He could just imagine the looks on their faces when they discovered the truth.

"Wait, I don't understand. How does Russia's destruction of his lungs mean we have a spy?"

Before Alfred could explain the deep symbolism behind Ivan's actions, the members of ASEAN stood up simultaneously.

"Alfred," Vietnam called to him. "We've reached a decision."

Flanked by Japan, America approached the Southeast Asian nations. He wasn't sure entirely what to expect. At best, three or four of the nations would accept, provided Japan decided to sign as well. He already had Vietnam's assistance, so with her, he could still build a mighty empire.

"So….what did you all decide?" he asked.

The nations of ASEAN shared a final glance with Vietnam, before allowing her to continue. Alfred's fiancée smiled at him, responding to his question with a question of her own.

"Where do we sign?"

_End Chapter 7 _

**Author's Not**e: **Are we seeing the beginning of a new kind of empire? An empire based on freedom, tolerance, and justice? Is such an institution even possible? Alfred seems to think so. But what of the rest of the world? How will they react to this sudden news? More questions than answers have been created by this chapter, which was my intention! The next chapter will be a bit of a filler, but it's going to further advance the plot in a way (I hope). Stay tuned for Chapter 8!**

**P.S. Once again, thanks so much for the reviews and favorites; they really do mean a lot. If you feel so compelled, feel free to drop me a review, it's a great incentive to keep working!**


	8. The Wheels of Progress

Chapter 8: The Wheels of Progress

"_Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt." _

― _Sun Tzu_

Alfred couldn't believe what he held in his hands. The Pact of Friendship, a document crafted by the greatest Americans of the age, was now signed by nine foreign nations. Burma…Myanmar, he reminded himself, had ultimately decided to abstain from signing, but would remain a passive partner in the region, helping the members of the members of ASEAN in their quest to be free of Chinese domination. That worked out just fine for Alfred, of course. He didn't necessarily need, nor expect, so many nations of Southeast Asia to join his side. He'd dropped bombs on them, swindled them out of funds or resources, and been an all-around jerk to them at one point or another. It amazed them how much trust they were willing to place in his country.

Of course, he knew it ran far deeper than any kind of personal loyalty they may have held toward him. They never would've accepted his proposal had it not been for the support of his dear fiancée, Vietnam. Although he appeared to be ignoring their discussion whilst speaking with Japan, he had managed to overhear her support for his plan. She didn't say much, but what was said spoke volumes. Here was a country he'd invaded and conquered, whose government was executed by his troops, who was willing to support his plans for a new empire.

It didn't make much sense…

After the final signature was in place, Alfred thanked the Asian nations, promising to hear back from his government shortly, as soon as news of Vietnam's annexation began to ebb. It was rare for such rapid fire good news to reach his people; he wanted them to savor it for as long as possible.

In the meantime, Alfred planned to spend the rest of his day in the company of the former French colony he'd fought so hard to win over. Before he could slip away, however, Japan grabbed onto him, insistent that they make preparations.

"Mr. America, I hate to spoil this moment for you, but we really must discuss what we are going to do about the U.N.!"

Alfred, though not denying the seriousness of the situation, was currently more interested in pursuing Vietnam.

"We will discuss this; I promise you that, Kiku. But…not right now. For now, head back to your country, and start increasing trade with the members of ASEAN. I want to start rattling at China's economic grip, for that to work, we'll all need to reduce our reliance on his goods. I'll be in contact with you in a few days; there are still a few more things I need to handle in the meantime….

"You mean Vietnam?" Kiku asked with a knowing smirk.

Alfred returned the smirk, catching a glimpse of the nation in question descending down to the lower levels of the palace.

"Primarily."

The Presidential press conference was finally winding down. Alfred listened in briefly as President Anderson gave his final statement on behalf of their newest province. He couldn't help but swell with pride at his eloquent words. It'd been quite some time since he'd been graced with a leader whose drive for reform was matched by his skillful articulation. Few presidents could match him.

The spell of inspiration was finally broken by the eruption of applause from supporters of the regime and equally inspired reporters. The President was going to overnight back to D.C. to tackle federal budget legislation. Alfred planned to join him, but would be arriving on his own time. Now was the time to indulge in the company of his beautiful Vietnam.

Easily moving through the crowd of onlookers, he caught sight of his target, sharing a few words with her newly elected president. Normally, diplomacy would trump passion and he'd have allowed her to finish conversing. But things were different; he was the leader of an empire, he took precedent now.

"If you don't mind, PresidentNguyễn, I'd like to borrow your country for a while," he stated casually, wrapping his arms around his new fiancé.

"Of course Mr. America, as you like."

As soon as the president departed, Alfred leaned in, whispering into his beloved's ear.

"And what did you think of my proposition, my beautiful Ly Minh?"

His hot breath sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"You…haven't called me by my name in quite a long time," she mused. "Why the sudden change?"

He grinned at her amazing perception. It was true; it'd been years since he'd called her by her true name. Following the siege at Khe Sanh back in '68, he'd used it less and less. When Saigon fell seven years later, he dropped it all together. Even thinking about it had brought back the memories of his greatest failure as the 'protector of democracy.' He'd taken down the Nazis and Imperial Japan with relative ease, and yet he couldn't protect one tiny country from a bunch of socialist rice farmers. It was much more complex than that, but the memories of Ly Minh didn't seem to care. All he saw was failure…

"I have nothing to fear now," he responded. "You're safe, with me. I failed once, but I will never fail you again."

Planting a kiss on her cheek, he escorted her outside of the Presidential Palace. Two of his Minutemen were waiting outside, guarding the door. Upon seeing their nation and commander exit, they immediately followed.

"So Ly, I was thinking you and I could take a little day trip together."

"Really? Where to?"

Waiting for them in the open area of the Palace grounds was a Blackhawk helicopter, its rotor blades already turning.

"I think it's time we revisit Saigon. I've had enough nightmares about that place; time to put them to rest."

"My sovereign Leader, it is terrible. The Yankee imperialist has not only enslaved our comrade, Vietnam, but is attempting to persuade all of Asia into his empire. We must stop him!"

North Korea's Vietnam ambassador stood across from his aging leader, his tone masking the fear he felt in the presence of the Great Successor; no one felt truly safe around him. The fact that he was the third ambassador to Vietnam in the span of two years revealed all too plainly the lack of job security.

He watched his leader rise from his chair, the small army of guards surrounding him snapping to attention in response. For a time however, their leader remained stoically silent. They nervously awaited his answer, wondering what, if anything, would be said.

"These actions are greatly distressing," he answered cryptically. "The Yankee dogs are now reapplying the shackles of tyranny to the free comrades of Asia. They are no doubt preparing for war. We must be the first to strike. Jun Soo!"

An impeccably dressed soldier immediately stepped forward.

"Yes sir," he responded, his eyes never losing their steely gaze.

"It is my understanding the next World Meeting will occur in one month's time. You shall attend this meeting… and remind the United States that there is a price to imperialism, one they must now pay."

"I understand, sir. I shall bring honor to our great nation."

Crisply saluting his Dear Leader, the nation of North Korea turned on his heels and left his leader's presence. In order to strike fear in the hearts of Americans, certain….weapons would be needed.

The newly renamed city of Saigon was bustling with activity. Despite many of the citizens being abuzz with news of their country's recent annexation, for a majority of the populace, life went on as usual. Cars and motorbikes flooded the streets, ships docked at ports loaded and unloaded cargo, and the general flow of the world continued to meander along. Overlooking the city from the top floor of the Bitexco Financial Tower, Saigon's tallest skyscraper, Alfred and Ly Minh were greeted to a panoramic view of the jewel of Southeast Asia.

"Saigon's changed quite a bit since I last got the chance to truly visit," America mused, noting with fascination the startling similarities the city bore to one of his own metropolitan centers.

"We've had many years of economic growth to fuel it," Ly Minh responded proudly. "This city has become the center of trade and technology in the region."

Vietnam's words held serious weight to the western nation. He'd seen firsthand how developing countries had risen to prosperity over the course of the 21st century. It never ceased to amaze him how much Saigon had changed. A few decades ago, though still a wealthy city, the most valuable goods available were American products sold on the black market. Now, he doubted if the average Vietnamese could not access goods from anywhere in the entire world.

"I wish I could've been a part of this, though," he noted. "Shame I had to let the socialists figure this out for themselves."

"What do you mean?"

Taking a step closer to the glass wall separating them from the outside, Alfred gestured to the skyscrapers all around them.

"Look at all of this…this isn't socialism. By definition, private enterprise to this extent shouldn't exist. Your leaders, however, have seen the benefits which capitalism brings. They continue to use the guise of socialism in order to maintain power. But, I think you and I both realize that the Vietnam you see before you is not one which Ho Chi Minh would've expected."

Pushing through the glass door, Alfred stepped out onto the helipad where his Blackhawk was currently idled. The moist humidity of downtown Saigon hit him full force, bringing back the memories of a time long passed. Ly Minh quickly followed after him, wondering what on Earth he was doing.

"What are you trying to say, Alfred? Granted, this was not Ho Chi Minh's vision, but he died over fifty years ago, why are you bringing him up?"

"The world is changing all around us, Ly," he responded cryptically. "That which you think stable and constant shall soon be proven false. There are those among us who are willing to sacrifice this world in order to rule over its ashes. I am not one of those individuals. That is why I fight, that is why I have annexed your country and incorporated your ASEAN brothers and sisters into my empire. We must be willing to stand against those who are willing to let millions die in their quest for power. Before, it was only men like Uncle Ho I had to fear; those whose range of vision was limited to their own country or region of influence. But now….now it is no longer men I fear, but nations. I fear we have lost that sense of humanity which has grounded us for so many centuries. We must regain it, or risk losing everything."

Alfred stopped, smiling to himself. He shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Ly, I must sound crazy. You probably don't know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't. Please Alfred, tell me."

America turned to his fiancée, his hand caressing her cheek as he gazed lovingly into her eyes.

"For now, just know that I love you, Ly. I will do anything and everything to protect you. All I ask of you is that you trust me. I know my actions are perceived as violent, and that is not going to change. The nation you know cannot exist right now; I must be ruthless and uncaring to those who will not join me. Trust me Viet; it will all make sense in the end."

Before Ly could respond, a beeping sound filled the air. Reaching up to his glasses, Alfred pressed a small button on its side, accepting the video call.

"Go ahead," he instructed, watching the image of one his Minutemen appear on the right lens.

"Chief, the President's on his way back to Air Force One," the masked individuals relayed. "He says he wants you to meet him in D.C. as soon as possible."

"Understood; I'll be airborne within the hour."

Pressing the button once again, the image faded, his glasses reverting back to their transparent state.

"Looks like I've got to head back now, Ly," he said finally. "I'll speak with you as soon as I can."

"Can't I come with you?"

"Not just yet, sorry. I need you here to oversee the integration of your country into mine. I'll be sending along a team of diplomats, researchers, economists, and military commanders to Vietnam within the next few days; I want you to be here to greet them and ensure they are given all which they require to aid in their work. In one month's time, the next World Meeting is scheduled to occur in Seoul, South Korea, I will see you then, I promise."

Giving her one last kiss, Alfred turned toward the helicopter whose rotor blades were already beginning to turn.

"Alfred, wait!"

Ly grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him from moving any further.

"Can you at least tell me one thing?"

"Of course," he replied, focusing his attention on her once again.

"What is it you hope to achieve? What is your ultimate goal?"

Alfred took pause at that, realizing how deep the answer truly was. He wanted to be honest with her, but the honest answer, at face value, would make little sense at the present time.

"I want….to make them listen," he answered truthfully. "I want them to hear what I have to say."

Ly had no idea what he was talking about, but, at some strange level, understood. Slowly, she nodded, accepting that she would uncover the meaning behind his words when the time was right.

"Okay."

Alfred knew his answer was lacking, but it boded well in him that Ly was accepting of it. Perhaps she truly did still trust in him…

"Thank you."

Boarding the helicopter, Alfred was ceded over controls from the Minutman co-pilot.

"Oh and by the way, do you know who owns this tower?"

Ly was taken aback by the question.

"It's owned by Bitexco Group. They're one of Vietnam's largest and most profitable corporations."

Alfred nodded at that, putting on his headset and exchanging his glasses for a pair of shades.

"Tell their CEO to give me a call while I'm in transit. I'd like to buy it."

"The skyscraper?!" she asked incredulously.

"No, the entire corporation. It'd be the perfect way to start integrating American and Vietnamese companies. Besides, this tower would make an excellent new U.S. embassy."

Flashing her one of his trademark grins, Alfred lifted up on the control stick, taking the black helicopter high into the air. Ly Minh watched as her fiancé flew across the hot afternoon sky toward his awaiting plane. In one month's time, they would reunite in South Korea; in the meantime, however…she had no way of knowing what he was going to be up to.

_End Chapter 8_


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